Bitra's Bite: The Story of Pern's Most Hated
by Diglossia
Summary: Bitra Hold decides to reform ties with Benden Weyr by opening its Hold once more to Search. Those chosen, however, are faced with the hatred of Pern's illustrious dragonfolk.
1. Chapter 1

_There is a Weyr/ A hundred miles from here/ Where the dragons sing and moan…_

The harper sang his merry tune, delighting in the giggles of the younger children. The older ones sat stonily, their brows creased in their typically irritable faces. Harper Silorn grimaced and finished the last chord. He put his gitar down then, making a note on his worn piece of hide.

Curse all Bitrans for their inhospitality, he thought. What kind of Hold expects a harper to use recycled hides?

Silorn glanced up to see the class shifting in their seats.

"Well, go along then," he said, waving towards the door.

They jumped from the benches with vulgar delight, their roughly accented voices chattering away as they left. He sighed.

"Worthless," he muttered.

A harsh knock sounded on the door. Silorn looked up to see the lady of the Hold, Misra.

"Silorn!" she snapped, her blue eyes furious.

"Yes, m'lady?" he said.

She stomped inside and stuck a thin finger underneath his nose.

"What is this I hear you are playing your own songs to the children?! I do not pay you to teach nonsense!"

Silorn gave Lady Misra a bald stare. He really did not care for the woman.

"And what nonsense would I be teaching your dear little ones?" he answered, mildly sarcastic.

Her pretty eyes narrowed and her lip curled.

"What nonsense, harper? My youngest asked me, how come he's never heard a dragon sing? What do you mean in telling him about Benden Weyr?"

Silorn suppressed a sigh.

"Lady Misra, it is common practice throughout the world to teach children about their duties to the dragonriders and the Weyrs. I merely introduced the concept in a way all could understand."

"I would appreciate it if you kept your _limericks_ to yourself. We owe nothing to the Weyrs."

Silorn's mouth opened at the absurdity of the statement before he thought better of it. Lady Misra folded her arms and glared at the man. He realized he looked quite foolish arguing with her while sitting on the low bench.

"All Pernese owe their very lives to the Weyrs. Does your Hold not tithe Benden?"

Lady Misra shrugged. She really was not a very elegant creature.

"We tithe as we should, harper. Nothing more, nothing less. Benden has not been allowed to Search Bitra Hold or its land in twenty Turns. As I said, we owe them nothing."

"My lady, do you speak truly? You have refused a Weyr it's right to Search? That's preposterous!"

"Do not tell me what is and is not, lowly harper. Remember who pays you!" she hissed and made for the door.

Silorn slapped his fist into his hand, barely in control of his anger.

"Lady, my pay?" he called just as the hem of her skirt disappeared.

A single dainty hand rested against the stone doorframe.

"You may consider it docked."

ØØØ

Lady Misra stood before the looking glass in her private bathing chamber. She unpinned her strawberry blonde hair, letting it fall past her shoulders as she shook it out.

The chamber was lavish, dark imported marble lining the sink and bathing pool. High mountain sea salt jars lay throughout the room, some filled with cleansing sand, others with glows.

It suited her traditional Bitran tastes. Though not the Lady of Bitra Hold itself, Lady Misra was the owner of its largest private hold and, therefore, the second most powerful woman in the area.

"Whatever will I do with that waste of a harper?" she asked her maid as the woman combed her hair.

"Is there a problem, m'lady?" the maid asked.

Lady Misra grinned.

"Ah, I do love your cautious mind, Varra. No, not a problem: merely a nuisance. Did you not hear what he is teaching the children now?"

Varra cocked an eyebrow but did not answer.

"Well, of course you do know. Any worthwhile person in this place knows. Really, though, what can they possibly learn from the dragonriders?"

"I know little of dragonmen."

"As do I. Hmm, perhaps Silorn is trying to sway the children to his Harper Hall tastes?"

Varra sniggered.

"Any harper sent to us here is of little importance to the Hall. The Masterharper knows we are too clever for his spies."

"Agreed. I must remember to tell Fildas to complain about this one, this Silorn, if only to keep the Hall informed."

"Fildas?" Varra asked.

"Yes, the man we sent to the Masterharper several Turns ago. He's from an outlying region and the harpers trust him enough for our purposes," said Lady Misra, already bored with the conversation.

Varra was one of the many go-betweens for the Lord Holder and Lady Misra. She had been for many Turns, smart enough to do her job and keep silent when she needed to be. A rather wonderful woman and an excellent spy if not terribly good-looking.

"Varra!" Lady Misra said suddenly.

Varra looked up.

"You have a cousin who is a dragonrider, do you not?"

Varra pursed her lips, thinking.

"A foster cousin, yes. Originally from Lemos. I believe he is the rider of a blue dragon. We haven't seen each other since his Impression."

Lady Misra stared at her reflection in the looking glass, turning her head to see herself in profile.

"I'm thinking then, that it is high time you saw him again. We have no one at the Weyr at the moment. It could be to our advantage to know what is occurring there."

"What do you mean, m'lady?"

"My dear Varra, we have been tithing Benden Weyr for a very, very long time. Fall is coming: we will soon have need to become closer to our good Weyrleaders… I have always fancied riding a-dragonback, haven't you?"


	2. Chapter 2

The next day, Lady Misra sent a runner to the Lord Holder of Bitra to discuss her plan:

_My dear Holder,_

_It has come to my attention, that with the advent of the deadliest menace to our Pernese lives, by which I mean the life-devouring Thread of which the dragonriders so often entertain themselves, that it would be to the benefit of the Hold of Bitra, its holdings, property, beasts, persons and progeny thereof, and so forth, including or not including all aforementioned, to reestablish communicative and actual ties with the Weyr of Benden, its property, beasts, persons and progeny thereof, as well as its dragons and progeny thereof, for the improvement and benefit of the establishment of a secure and viable future for the inhabitants of the Hold of Bitra..._

… and so on, and so forth, in the deliciously guarded yet specific fashion of a true Bitran communication. It was the sort of thing so many other Pernese loathed them for.

But, then, Lady Misra was not one of those other Pernese and so cared little for the wordings of a private letter. She decided that she would move forward with her plan whether the Lord Holder agreed to it or not. There was little time for dawdling if they were to turn a Bitran child into a dragonrider!

So Lady Misra set herself to the task of charming the Weyr.

In three short days, Lady Misra learned the names of every important dragonrider at Benden Weyr, their histories, and their original holdings. She learned everything she could about the dragons themselves. She was surprised to learn of the dragon hierarchy. As a child she had been taught that the golden queens ruled over the other dragons and that only the great bronze beasts could become their mates but she had not known that the greens were females or that the blues were the ones that sniffed out the Candidates during Search.

A sevenday later, when she was certain she could compose herself enough to endure a conversation with dragonriders, Lady Misra had a message sent to the Weyr asking for an audience from the Weyrwoman and Weyrleader.

It was accepted. Lady Misra was to attend the Hatching of a junior queen, which was scheduled to occur the next fortnight.

ØØØ

Buthaynah awoke. Her stomach was knotted and she was in terrible pain. The girl, only fifteen Turns, wondered if she was pregnant. It was not unlikely considering recent events.

She stood up, pulling the furs off of her slim form. Buthaynah almost doubled over then, the pain was so intense. She made her way outside of the cottage, careful not to awaken the other residents.

Once outside, her stomach contents decided they wanted no more to do with her. She heaved for several breaths, though only reddish liquid came forth.

She scraped her defiled tongue with her teeth, spitting the disgusting remainder out.

I hope it is only a normal sickness, she thought. She leaned against the stone wall of the cottage and looked up at the dark sky. The Dawn Sisters could still be seen off in the distance, though the haze of the morning fog blurred everything. She could not remember the last time she had seen the sky this early. It made the world appear wonderfully fresh, as though anything could happen.

Buthaynah smiled to herself. Perhaps it was a sign that something good _would_ happen. Perhaps Yusef would finally ask her to marry him. Perhaps her mother would teach her that special ingredient to make the purple dye.

Or perhaps nothing would happen at all, a cynical voice told her. Perhaps you are imagining what might be to avoid what _is_. You are just a silly girl, after all.

The sound of the drums interrupted her thoughts. Buthaynah's eyes unfocused as she listened to the pattern.

Her hand flew to her mouth as comprehension dawned on her.

Buthaynah ran inside the cottage, tears pouring down her soft face.

Something terrible had happened. A dragonrider had been killed.


	3. Chapter 3

_Bitra Hold_

Lady Misra was awoken by the rapid pounding of the drums. It was too early for the news to not be urgent.

She sat up in her bed, the furs pulled off to the side by her bedmate. Misra listened as the drums pounded the same beat over and over.

_Death. Dragonrider dead, Benden Weyr. Accident during something. Death. Dragonrider dead, Benden Weyr. Accident…_

Lady Misra could only speculate as to what had happened. There were some things the drums had no signals for. A dragonrider dead in the early hours of the morning…? An accident while flying? What could it be?

The drums offered no definite answer.

Lady Misra did not go back to sleep. She lay down with her eyes closed, her mind whirling as to the meaning this recent tragedy held for Bitra.

ØØØ

Somehow, in a logic that Lady Misra did not understand, the death of the dragonrider postponed the Hatching by a few days. Several holds, realizing the danger to their children of being a dragonrider, did the unthinkable: they asked that their Candidates be returned. Twenty Candidates were sent back. The Weyr, already grieved by its loss, did not fight the Holders' decision.

Lady Misra was quite delighted by this news. Now there was a definite chance the Weyr would allow Bitrans to be Searched. Negotiations could begin immediately instead of waiting for the next Clutch.

The Hatching feast had already been prepared and so Lady Misra had an excuse to meet the Weyrleaders. On the scheduled day, she and Varra made their way to Benden Weyr.

ØØØ

_Lower Caverns, Benden Weyr_

"Weyrleader S'grall and Weyrwoman Galla, Bitra Hold offers its deepest sympathy in the Weyr's recent loss. I should hope all dragons perish as nobly," Lady Misra said, sweeping a low curtsy.

The Weyrwoman glared at her.

"I was not aware Bitra harbored such feelings for their protectors," Galla said, more than a little sarcastic.

"Neither was I," came the voice of Lord Branak, "But then, everyone knows Bitrans are skilled in the arts of lying and trickery."

Lady Misra smiled.

"It is my belief that one can never fully trust rumor. For example, I have heard that Tillek is known for the unappetizing tartness of its wine yet your Hold continues to make good profit from its production."

Lord Branak's nostrils flared but he did not answer.

They sat down to their meal soon after. The atmosphere lightened somewhat, though Galla did not seem to warm to the Bitran.

Lady Misra was wondering how to redeem her Hold and herself when Lord Branak of Tillek Hold made a most asinine comment.

"Well, it was just a green, wasn't it? Hardly a loss at all if you ask me," he said snidely, not realizing that his words carried.

Lady Misra's spine stiffened instantly.

With a loud crack, the Weyrwoman slapped the Lord Holder in the face.

"How dare you!" she screeched, "Get out of my Weyr! Get out right now!"

Lord Branak sprang quickly from his seat, his own face a whorl of anger and scorn. He clutched his cheek where she had hit him.

"You vile bitch!" he snarled.

Galla screeched again and flung herself at the unfortunate man. Riders jumped to restrain their Weyrwoman, though the effort was half-hearted at best.

Lord Branak's wife stood at her husband's side, clutching his arm.

Within minutes, the Lord was ushered out of the Weyr. Murmurs could be heard throughout the dining cavern, discussing what was happening outside. Lord Branak and his wife had flown in dragonback but the rider now refused to return the Lord Holder. No other rider could be found willing to do so and the Branak was given a curt shove out the delivery tunnel. There was no runner given to him as the Weyr did not keep such beasts and no one knew how Branak expected to return home. Then again, no one truly cared.

"Our Lord seems well-versed in stereotypes, doesn't he?" Lady Misra said calmly to her seatmate, a younger son of Benden, "I would recommend not following his example in the future, my dear. Perhaps I am known for my smooth tongue, but better false interest than truthful idiocy."

He nodded, quite taken by the extreme turn of events.


	4. Chapter 4

_Weyrleader S'grall's room, Benden Weyr_

"I do not want a Bitran Impressing one of Alibith's clutch, S'grall!" Junior Weyrwoman Favanna yelled, not caring that her voice could be heard throughout the Weyr.

"Nor do I!" Darali, the other junior Weyrwoman, snapped, "Letting a son of Bitra Impress now would open all clutches to them! They don't belong in a Weyr. They never have."

S'grall, Benden's Weyrleader, rubbed his forehead, quite exhausted by the complaints of the Weyr's three Weyrwomen. Galla, the rider of the Senior queen, had been arguing with him all day about the possible consequences of what she called 'a fardling, cracked skull thing to do'.

"Weyrwoman Favanna, Weyrwoman Darali, we have already discussed why this is the appropriate thing to do. Bitra Hold is under our protection, as it has been since the beginning of time. We are required to protect them from Threadfall no matter our feelings for them. Is that clear?"

He paused then, looking at the two angry women meaningfully.

"More importantly, Alibith has clutched sixty-two eggs. There are hardly enough Candidates to stand on the Hatching Grounds as it is. When Yasmuth clutches, Darali, we will likely have as many eggs if not more. Where do you two expect to find even another _sixty_ Candidates?"

Favanna made a growling noise. She and Darali looked at each other.

"S'grall, you have a point," Darali said, huffing, "We don't have enough Candidates right now. But we can Search _other_ Holds. We don't _have_ to look towards Bitra."

"Right," Favanna chimed in, "We can look elsewhere. Besides, how can we trust anyone Bitra provides? They might be liars or thieves or worse!"

S'grall gritted his teeth. He did not like the situation, either but they did not have _time_ to look all over Pern for more Candidates.

"Ladies, do we really want to be beholden to the other Weyrs? There are eggs on the Sands at Fort and Telgar, and both junior queens at High Reaches are due to clutch at any moment. There are problems enough finding a variety of boys to present to the Hatchlings in the other Weyrs without asking the Holds for more. Think rationally," S'grall said, "No matter who Bitra gives us, if the Search dragons don't approve, they won't ever reach the Hatching Grounds. We might as well accept Bitra's offer to Search."

"I agree," said Galla.

The two queenriders turned their heads sharply to look at the Senior Weyrwoman, who had just entered S'grall's weyr. Though his bronze Rigenth was mate to her Biheth, they did not share weyrs. Their relationship was political only, for the good of the Weyr.

With the next Interval beginning in three Turns, Galla had agreed to allow Wingleader S'grall to become Weyrleader. His wing was the most efficient and most organized wing in the Weyr and had been for several Turns.

"Weyrleader, Weyrwomen," Galla said, looking at each in turn, "We do need a good choice of Candidates for the dragonets. Biheth and I have talked for several hours about this. She says that we should not care where the boys and girls come from-"

The lips of all four riders curved upwards slightly at that oh so draconic statement.

"- and that we should let the Hatchlings choose as they will. That is our decision and I expect both of you, Favanna," Galla raised her eyebrows at the younger Weyrwoman, "and you, Darali, to respect it. Put your hard feelings aside for now."

Galla then clapped her hands together and left.

ØØØ

L'tuv, rider of blue Ionenth, stared at the children Lady Misra had assembled. In particular he was staring at the blonde with the lazy eye.

_What was she thinking?_ He asked Ionenth. _Some of these boys look like they couldn't even add two and two together! Hardly worth bothering to Search._

Ionenth rumbled.

_Some of them are not so good Candidates but I _feel_._ He told his rider.

L'tuv sighed.

He moved from where he stood next to Ionenth, going to greet the Lady Misra.

"Ma'am, it's quite a pleasure to meet you," he said smoothly, in his slight Nerat drawl.

He reached out his hand and was quite surprised at the strength of her handshake. Not a lady at all by the rough calluses on her palms, he thought, unable to find fault.

"My pleasure as well, dragonrider. I am Lady Misra and these are those children I have found worthy of Search. Please take your pick."

L'tuv frowned at the oddness of her statement.

"Where are the other children, Lady Misra?" he asked, sweeping his hand out to indicate there might be more hidden somewhere nearby.

Lady Misra's sky-blue eyes widened.

"Excuse me, dragonrider," she said, in a tone not at all apologetic, "but I have taken the liberty to only present you with those who would be suitable for Impression."

L'tuv, never a fan of Holders, smiled politely. He motioned to A'dyar, rider of blue Gemolth, to follow him as he looked at the boys and girls.

_Yes, yes, no, no, no, no, maybe, no, yes, yes, no, NO,_he thought as Ionenth's mind blended with his own.

Search was difficult to explain to those who did not have the proper sensitivity. It was not so much that the blues and greens sniffed out the Candidates as _felt_ the quality of their minds. A'dyar's Gemolth was not as sensitive as Ionenth and they often argued about lesser Candidates. L'tuv really was not in the mood for bickering today.

"I've got seven," L'tuv told A'dyar, who nodded.

"Alright," L'tuv said, walking in front of the line of children, "If I point to you, I want you to step forward. If I don't, you can leave."

He pointed to five boys and two girls. Those not chosen stepped back quietly. L'tuv was confused by the lack of reaction. No one whined or stomped off in anger. There was no feeling of disappointment or even sadness.

_Do they not want to be dragonriders?_ He asked Ionenth.

_They were not right. Why would you be unhappy to not get something you don't want?_ Came the dragon's reply.

L'tuv shook his head. Ionenth always made things so much more sensible.

_What is sensible to me is sensible to you._ Ionenth said sleepily.

_Hush. I need to talk to them. _L'tuv said, fighting to keep himself from smiling.

_Then talk._

"You there, what is your name?" A'dyar asked, giving L'tuv time as he spoke to Ionenth.

A tall, brown haired boy stood in front of him. He had large heavy-lidded eyes and full lips, unnervingly sensual for someone so young.

"Khaleel," the boy said, into the dragonrider's face.

Bold, but not offensive. Strength was always a useful characteristic in a rider.

"And yours?" A'dyar asked, pointing at the next chosen.

"Mikail."

And so on, with Ionenth and Gemolth approving each one strongly. In short order, the Candidates were gathered up and placed on the dragons' backs, and they were off to the Weyr.

Back at the Weyr, after they had deposited the Candidates to the Weyrlingmaster, L'tuv could not stop thinking about the oddness of it all.

Seven candidates, all so strong that Gemolth and Ionenth had agreed immediately, out of thirty. The others had been physically and mentally wrong, weak, young, and just _wrong_.

Khaleel, the beautiful, sultry boy; Mikail, the muscular blonde with hazel eyes; Tayyib and Suhaiyl, the pale twins who weren't twins at all, not even related, according to them, one fifteen, one nineteen- even Ionenth had been confused at the boys' story- with recently shaved heads and piercing eyes; Ghaliyah, the short girl with the incredibly sharp eyebrows; Mujahid, the dark-skinned with the low voice; and finally Buthaynah, the sweet girl with the ink black hair.

All quiet but, then, that could have been nerves. Such foreign-sounding names, like nothing L'tuv had ever heard. They even smelled different. Not bad, just different.

Ah, well, L'tuv thought, it's what the dragons choose that counts.


	5. Chapter 5

"Welcome to Benden Weyr. My name is Weyrlingmaster G'plin, rider of brown Juleth. You will refer to me as Weyrlingmaster for the duration of your stay in the Weyrling Barracks. Is that clear?" G'plin asked.

"Yes," came the jumbled reply.

"Alright, then. Let me set some ground rules: one, I expect each of you to pay attention to what I say; two, I expect you to show up to every class; three, I expect you to do everything I ask you to do and, if you don't, you better have a damn good reason."

He paused, looking at the group.

"Now, I want you all to know that you are guests at this Weyr until you either Impress or decide to leave. Therefore, you must treat every person and dragon at this Weyr with the utmost respect regardless of their rank or position. They are all above you. I will not allow anything less. In exactly three Turns, two months, and a sevenday, the first Threadfall is expected. You need to be prepared for injury and death. You need to learn how to work with other people and dragons. You need to be aware of everything going on around you.

There is no queen egg on the Sands. Girls, that means, if you Impress, it will be to a fighting dragon. If any of you, male or female, do not think that you are capable or willing to become a dragonrider, tell me. Until then, follow me. We will be going to the Weyrling Barracks."

ØØØ

G'plin led them deep into the Weyr. The Weyrling Barracks were actually only two low-ceilinged caverns separated by a hallway. At first, the Candidates had assumed one was for the males and one for the females but the Weyrlingmaster quickly explained that the smaller cavern was for pre-Impression Candidates and the much more spacious one was for the dragonets and their riders.

"You mean we have to share a room with _boys_?" a red-haired girl asked, looking disgusted.

G'plin looked at her blankly.

"When you are in a Wing, you will need to be as comfortable as possible to your fellow riders. If someone is hurt, you cannot refuse to help him because it means touching his butt. Yes, Tarana, you will be sharing a room with all of the other Candidates. Dinner is in one hour," he said, walking out.

The Bitrans settled themselves with little fuss. There were cots on the floor and thick blankets to sleep upon. No pillows but they could always roll some extra clothes up and use those. The floor was cleanly swept with sparse piles of dust or dirt. All in all, not a terribly bad situation.

They pulled the cots near each other, finding reassurance in numbers. They were a long way from home.

ØØØ

Weyrling training began in earnest the next morning. Though it was barely dawn, G'plin woke the Candidates up with a loud bellow.

"Rise and shine! I need to see all beds made and a line in front of me in five minutes!" he yelled cheerfully.

Groans followed his entrance as sleepy teenagers struggled to move. Beds were made and belongings pushed to the side quickly. They filed up in front of G'plin.

He led them down to the grassy field at the bottom of the Weyr, where the herdbeasts roamed around. G'plin grabbed several wheelbarrows and brought them over to the Candidates.

"Alright, then, today we're going to be picking up herdbeast patties. I only want the dry ones; if they're wet, just leave them where they are," G'plin said, grinning.

The group spent several hours sifting through the massive field. It seemed as though no one had ever bothered to gather the herdbeast patties before. There were literally hundreds of them spread all over the place. G'plin told them that the patties would be used as fuel for the fires in the Lower Caverns.

Stomachs growled as they finally came to an end. The patties were stacked in bags and the Candidates carried one each as they followed G'plin through the Weyr. They were met with laughter as they entered the Lower Caverns, weyrfolk quite delighted at the irritated faces of the youngsters.

With exhaustion clouding their faces, the Candidates sat down to their first meal of the day.

ØØØ

The drudgery soon became routine for the Candidates. Even the most proud learned to shut their complaining mouths when G'plin was near. The tasks he gave them really were not hard so much as mind-numbingly boring.

But G'plin was rather clever about his job and did not have his flock doing pointless chores. Every day they would meet someone new in the Weyr: sometimes, it was a bronze Wingleader and his dragon, other times, it would be the Headwoman of the Lower Caverns or one of the cooks. The Candidates soon became familiar with the major parts of the Weyr and the functioning of the Weyr hierarchy.

Some days G'plin would let them onto the Hatching Sands to see how the eggs transformed with each passing hour. The eggs grew harder and harder as the sands warmed them. The Candidates were not allowed to touch the eggs but it was comforting to watch as their soon-to-be lifemates grew.

Then came the day that the humming started.


	6. Chapter 6

The Candidates rushed to get their robes as the whole Weyr jumped into excited panic. The Weyrlingmaster was nowhere to be found but that was hardly a problem: the Candidates knew what to do. They ran, tripping and stumbling out of the Weyrling Barracks.

Just as most had cleared out, Weyrlingmaster G'plin entered the cavern. A last boy scrambled out and there were only seven Candidates left.

Buthaynah and her fellow Bitrans stood talking to each other in frantic whispers. Their robes, the crisp white sheets that had lain on top of their things yesterday were gone. There had been no extras and no explanation. Mujahid sat down on a nearby cot, his head in his hands. Tayyib and Suhaiyl stood holding hands as they did every minute of every day. The small group looked so tired and sad.

G'plin cleared his throat, getting their attention.

"Why?" Ghaliyah asked, her face pained.

The others just watched him.

"Weyrwoman Galla wants you seven to stay here," G'plin said, not able to meet the Bitrans' eyes, "She says she doesn't think you're all pre- oh, it doesn't matter what she said. You can't attend the Hatching, any of you, not even to watch. You can attend the next one."

The seven looked at each other and nodded.

"Fine," Mujahid said, though his voice conveyed anything but, "What do you want us to do until then?"

G'plin gave them some thoughtless task.

The Bitrans left, their faces revealing nothing as they schooled their expressions perfectly. The rest of the Weyr did not have to know of their disappointment.

ØØØ

G'plin sat watching the start of the Hatching. The great queen, Alibith, sat smugly, studying the Candidates in turn. There were exactly ninety-one boys and girls on the sands, enough for the dragonets to have a decent choice.

Bluerider H'tir sat next to him, anxious delight written all across his face. Everyone in the Weyr enjoyed Hatchings, the memory of their own alone was enough to make the most downtrodden rider happy. G'plin could not help a broad smile as the humming increased.

Still, when he looked at Favanna, his heart sank somewhat. How could a queenrider be so cruel? G'plin had not lied when he had said Weyrwoman Galla had refused the Bitrans access to the Hatching Grounds but he _knew_ that Favanna was the true source of the spitefulness. To deny dragonets adequate choice because you hated the Candidates on pretense? Hardly an admirable decision.

But H'tir was happy and Juleth was happy and the Weyr was happy, so G'plin could not dwell long on his mutinous thoughts. No matter what Favanna did, she and Alibith were still to be respected.

The first sound of cracking began and G'plin lost all thought as he succumbed to the emotions of Hatching.

ØØØ

The Bitrans were in the dining cavern when the Hatching ended. They had spent the duration of the Hatching moving chairs and tables for Headwoman Renni. Renni had been grateful for the help as most of her women and children had run off to watch the Impressions.

People poured in and sat down at the tables and the Bitrans were forced to let them do as they wanted. There was no room left to move anything from one side of the cavern to another. Renni called them into the kitchen and gave them platters of meat and tubers, preserved fruit jams and sauces.

They carried them out, spreading between the tables to serve the food. It was then that they realized just how disliked they were. Khaleel would place wherry meat in the center of the table only to hear the snide remarks of the new riders and their families that he had been found _unworthy_ to Impress. Mikail would take extra napkins out and would have people sneer at them, stating loudly that they would _never_ touch something a Bitran had touched. Someone actually stuck out her foot to trip Ghaliyah as she took empty platters back to the kitchen. The poor girl had fallen hard, bits of sauce and bone splattering onto her hair and clothes. Mean-spirited laughter had followed her red face. Mujahid had helped her up, glaring at the crowd of people.

When they reached the kitchen, they found Suhaiyl in tears, his face pressed against Tayyib's chest. Weyrwoman Darali herself had called him something he would not repeat.

Similar experiences followed the group as they made their rounds, doing their best to ignore the blatant discrimination the Weyr set against them. It was unfair but they Lady Misra had prepared them for it.

Still, they were Candidates. The Bitrans slept in the Weyrling Barracks that night amidst those unchosen by dragonets. In the morning, they would return to G'plin's class and their chores.

"We just have to make it through to the next Hatching," Mikail whispered in the dark cavern.

Unhappy sighs met his words.


	7. Chapter 7

_Bitra Hold_

Lady Misra read the note yet again. A runner from Benden Weyr had brought it the day before. It was short and to the point:

_Lady Misra,_

_We are sorry to inform you that we, your chosen Candidates, have not Impressed as you wished. We were met with dislike by the Weyrwoman Galla and were not able to attend the Hatching. We will continue to work as you have asked and hope to see you in the near future. The queen Yasmuth has Clutched and forty-three eggs lie on the Sands at present._

_Your servants, as we have come to be called, the Bitra Seven._

Lady Misra snarled and slammed her hand into the wall. Not allowed to attend the Hatching? After all her efforts, to be stopped by some hateful dragonwoman?

The five boys and two girls she had chosen had been perfect. She had had Varra's foster cousin, the dragonrider, inspect every available child in Bitra several days before the Search dragons came. He had said they were all good Candidates, hadn't he? Had they done something wrong, something to offend the queenrider?

Lady Misra knew the answer, though. They had done nothing wrong: they were hated for their heritage, for the dealings and livelihoods of their forefathers before them. They were hated for something they had not chosen, a stigma that would never leave them. The very color of their skin, the shape of their faces, and the quality of their voices screamed "Bitran" like a warning to those around them.

She blinked, willing away the tears that collected at the corners of her eyes. It was the same for those young ones as it had been for her and her parents. Bitrans were hated for who they were. Lady Misra could not remember a time when she had not felt angry eyes following her at Gathers and seen mean gestures directed at her brothers and sisters, as well as at every person she had ever known. It was what made Bitrans so strong: that ability to shake off the hatred of others and continue living productive lives.

So Lady Misra wrote a letter back, one of encouragement and love to the children whose fates she had forever changed. It was her fault they were suffering, it was her fault they could not return home. It was all her fault.

_Be strong, my children, do as I have asked and try, try to ignore the hate all around you. People will hate you for who you are and for your audacity in entering a Weyr. It is up to you now to prove them wrong. Let them see in your actions that you are their equals. Let them hear in your voices the pride you feel in being Bitran. Let them learn from your smiles and your laughter that you will persevere. You are the future…_

ØØØ

The Bitra Seven read their lady's letter when it came. It gave them hope and a resolve to carry out their all-important task to become part of the Weyr.

They had known from the day they had entered the Weyr that they were going to live there for the rest of their lives.

ØØØ

With each passing sevenday, the Weyrling Barracks became more crowded. Search dragons brought in Candidates from all over the lands Benden Weyr protected, though never more than two or three a day. The Holds and Crafthalls were not eager to lose promising youngsters and the ones they offered up were often useless to the Weyr.

In the morning, G'plin would awaken the unimpressed Candidates and send them off to do chores. The Impressed ones would learn flying and strategy for several hours, then go to eat. Then G'plin would teach the others about Weyr life and the meaning and responsibilities of being a dragonrider. If either group was finished with their tasks, they were invited to sit in on the other class but that was a rare occurrence, indeed. The Weyrlings and the Candidates were often so exhausted by dinner that they collapsed on their cots immediately afterwards.

Young dragons were always milling around and getting underfoot. Their colors soon gained meaning for the Weyrlings and Candidates. The greens and blues were the most social and would often sidle up to anyone begging for a rub or to play a game. Fetch and hide were obnoxiously popular games, with the poor humans forced to play for hours on end. Browns were shy and cautious. They would play with the blues and greens but were always wary of getting too excited or jumpy. Sometimes they would approach humans other than their lifemates but would often back up in fear when someone put out a hand for them to sniff, hiding behind their rider.

Bronzes were arrogant and bossy, always butting the greens around and snapping at the blues. They were especially mean to the browns, shoving past them whenever possible and becoming furious when a brown happened to be blocking their way. Woe was it to whichever human so much as brushed against them: the bronzes _hated_ to be touched by anyone but their riders.

Weyrlingmaster G'plin would later explain that these general personality traits were what helped to create the Weyr hierarchy. Bronzes only seemed mean at this stage because they needed to learn how to lead other dragons and to see what they could get away with. They were highly dependent on their riders. Browns, he said smiling a bit tightly, were beneath the bronzes and so had to learn to listen to them. And so it went, with each dragon learning that his or her skin color put him or her into a set class.

The new riders understood G'plin easily, though the riders and Candidates both had plenty of questions to ask him: How did a dragon become a certain color? Could a dragon change color? Why were the blues above the greens, and not equal? How come bronzes were bigger than browns? How could you tell the difference between a brown and a bronze dragon? Did a dragon know at birth what color he or she was? How come greens couldn't lay eggs?

The questions would go on and on. G'plin would tell them stories of when Juleth was a Weyrling. Back then, when Fall was a long time off, there had been whole debates about the meaning of the colors and the Weyr hierarchy.

But that was way back when, he told the eager riders and Candidates. During a Pass, you could not ask those kinds of questions. It was more important to learn how to fight Thread.


	8. Chapter 8

Hey, Diglossia here. Just wondering how all of you are liking the story. This chapter focuses on two of the other Bitrans because they need more than 2-D lives. More to come soon.

* * *

Several sevendays passed and Buthaynah still felt sick. Sometimes she would feel nauseous in the evening, more often, though, in the morning when she had no time for it. It frustrated her to be so hungry her stomach ached and then have her body reject the food she put into it.

None of her fellow Candidates threw up, except when they drank too much during the evening festivities. The Weyr had so many parties, toast after toast made to this or that rider for a birthday, or even to whole groups of dragons who had Hatched at the same time Turns before. The bronze riders and their women would drink into the early hours, loudly falling all over the Lower Caverns. The blue and greenriders were more apt to have private celebrations. In general, the Weyr practiced tolerance for all sexual desires but it still was not considered polite to go beyond friendly kisses and embraces in public.

Brownriders were the enigmas of the Weyr. They kept to themselves and their Wings. Browns had little to do with the greater powers but also did not fit into the culture of the blues and greens. Each rider fit into his own niche according to his interests and personality. It had taken the Weyrlings and Candidates a while to figure out G'plin's life outside of his job. At first, it was uncomfortable for them to see him outside of his duties, as it is with any teacher. G'plin had been a Wingsecond for several Turns but had taken over as Weyrlingmaster after the former, also a brownrider, had retired. G'plin was older than thirty, guessing by his looks and he had a Weyrmate who they saw on occasion, a bluerider named H'tir. But that was it. No one could tell them where he had come from or if he had ever been anything other than Juleth's rider. When they asked, G'plin would tell them vaguely about a Hold where summer was never warm and winter was filled with icy snowstorms, where the people loved quiet and hated anyone different, a place he had been grateful to leave.

Sadly, many of the boys- and more than one of the girls- in G'plin's classes could relate. They had faced intolerance in their homes and bigotry for their sexual preferences. The Weyr had always seemed a haven to them, the side jokes about lisping greenriders and sashaying blues giving them hope for a place where no one would care who they loved.

Buthaynah, though, was starting to think that she was facing a problem that had nothing to do with an interest in her own gender.

ØØØ

Suhaiyl woke shortly after Buthaynah the next morning. He heard her stumble out of the Weyrling Barracks, accidentally bumping into cots and disgruntled faces on the way. It was not the first time he had heard her get up. Every time, Suhaiyl wanted to ask her if she was okay but he hardly knew the girl and did not want to get into an argument because she was on her monthlies. He grimaced, glad he did not have that problem.

Tayyib lay next to him, their shared furs tangled around his pale legs. Since the first night, they had laid their cots against each other so that they had a sort of double bed to share.

Tayyib breathed softly, a half-smile playing on his sleeping lips. He was a few Turns older than Suhaiyl, not that either one cared. Suhaiyl was so glad they had both made it to the Weyr. If Tayyib had not been chosen, Suhaiyl would have backed out no matter what Lady Misra said.

Suhaiyl was starting to worry, though, about becoming a dragonrider. Would he and Tayyib still be together after they Impressed? So many of the Weyrfolk said that being a rider changed you so much so that nothing else would ever be as important. Suhaiyl did not want to forget Tayyib, not after all they had been through together.

They had met Turns before when Suhaiyl first started working at his grandparents' Weaver Hall. It was a small but lucrative business with dyes and thread sent out all through eastern Pern. Suhaiyl had been spinning thread for fine yarn when he had come across Tayyib. The older boy had been calculating accounts of the marks going in and out of the Hall, as well as inventory of everything they produced. Suhaiyl had looked at the numbers in confusion, not yet knowing such complicated figures and equations. Tayyib, he remembered, had smiled and shown Suhaiyl how to calculate the gross tax for the previous five Turns; the two of them talking until Suhaiyl's grandmother had found Suhaiyl and told him to get back to work.

They used to meet during lunch and during their breaks. Soon, Suhaiyl and Tayyib would spend all night together talking, just enjoying being with one another. Suhaiyl had seen nothing out of the ordinary in their relationship until the day Tayyib's father beat him.

Tayyib had been an hour late for work that day. He had winced as he came in, holding a hand to his back, a brilliantly purple bruise on the left side of his jaw. Suhaiyl had wanted to talk to him, to ask what had happened but his grandmother held him back.

"Leave him be," she had said kindly, a hand on her grandson's shoulder, "It would be better for both of you if you stay away from him for a while."

"Why?" Suhaiyl had asked.

And his grandmother had told him, explaining to the unknowing boy about people with closed minds and hateful hearts who would never accept people like him. Suhaiyl had taken it all in, pained by the knowledge that he had caused this to happen.

He ignored his grandmother and had talked to Tayyib later that day, apologizing for everything. Tayyib had given him a crooked grin and said that his father was an idiot anyway. Then he had kissed Suhaiyl for the first time.

Tayyib's parents had later refused to have anything to do with him, even to the point of pretending he never existed. But that did not matter to Tayyib because he and Suhaiyl were together, forever.


	9. Chapter 9

The eggs grew harder as the eager Candidates sat through their lessons with the Weyrlingmaster. No one could wait for the Hatching to begin.

But there were lessons to learn and chores to do until then. The great Yasmuth sat protectively over her eggs, her first Clutch, not allowing anyone but her rider onto the Sands.

The Weyrlings were starting their first flying lesson only two sevendays before the new Clutch was due to Hatch. G'plin had allowed the Candidates to have a day off to watch. Most of them lay against the warm rock of the open ledge, sunbathing as they waited for the dragons to appear. Several adult greens were to fly up in formation to illustrate the proper technique but they had yet to show up.

Suddenly, five green dragons burst from between, the riders laughing as their dragons shrieked in delight.

Each green spun in the air gracefully, flipping over backwards twice in a tight curl before diving towards the ground. They descended at incredible speed, their wings held tight to their chests, unfurling them at the last instant, and back winging to land on their hind feet. They settled to the ground effortlessly, the same distance apart as they had been in the air.

The Weyrlings and Candidates stood in frank amazement for a full minute before one clapped. They all joined in enthusiastically, adding their shouts of approval. Someone whistled piercingly.

"Alright. Now you all are going to try," Weyrlingmaster G'plin said, "I want you to mount your dragon and, when I give you the go-ahead, I want you to tell your dragon to launch off of the lip of the ledge, then use the freefall to slip into a glide. I promise you, you won't kill yourselves."

Wide eyes met his announcement. G'plin simply smiled.

"R'for, you first."

A tall boy led his bronze out to the edge of the rock. He looked down nervously before climbing aboard his dragon. The bronze snorted, backing up slightly. He bunched his massive hindquarters, wiggling them, and then sprang up.

With a mighty thud, they crashed back down to earth, barely a meter ahead of where they had been before. Laughter burst forth from the Weyrlings and Candidates. The rider's face flushed an embarrassed pink.

G'plin rubbed his lips, masking any amusement.

"That was good for a first try, R'for. This time tell Hemanth to concentrate on putting his energy into going _forward_ instead of up."

The rider nodded and the two jumped again. This time they managed to get halfway into open air when Hemanth scared himself and leapt backwards, his legs grabbing onto the rock.

"Again, R'for," G'plin said.

ØØØ

Buthaynah's stomach heaved as she saw a blue and his rider jump off the edge. The dragon's color reminded her too much of the berries she had eaten at breakfast. She clapped a hand to her mouth and ran back into the Weyr, praying to Faranth that she would not make a mess of the hallway.

She reached the latrines. The sick smell did nothing to make her feel better. Buthaynah dropped to the floor. Her stomach clenched and hot, acidic vomit shot out of her mouth. She choked, her hair falling into her mouth.

A hand, not her own, pulled her hair back gently.

"Thanks," she groaned before she heaved again.

Her stomach muscles seized up again and again, even when nothing more came out. Buthaynah leaned back, her hands on her thighs. Someone combed her hair back from her face. A wet cloth was pressed against her forehead.

"You want some water?" a voice asked. It was Ghaliyah, her friend.

"Yeah," Buthaynah said.

A glass of water was given her and she took a sip, swishing her mouth out. She spit the water into the latrine and stood up.

"Uhmh," she grunted, the sudden movement bringing even more nausea.

Buthaynah sipped the water as Ghaliyah used the cloth to clean her face and clothes, the first girl still too weak to do it herself.

"You're sweating!" Ghaliyah said, surprised, "Come on, let's go outside."

She pushed Buthaynah out of the latrine room towards the cool morning air. Buthaynah tried to tell Ghaliyah that she normally became overheated after throwing up but Ghaliyah kept insisting they get out in the fresh air.

They sat down on the ledge to watch the last Weyrling, a green, fly off to meet the rest of the class. The beating of her wings pushed a great draft of air onto the girls. The other Candidates were gone, having tired of watching the repeated miss attempts to fly.

Suddenly, a huge shadow flew over Ghaliyah and Buthaynah. A streak of gold, then another, went past. It was two of the queen dragons coming in to land. They swooped down on the girls, who jumped up and ran back to the entrance to the Weyr. With a soft thump, the queens touched down on the rock ledge, their gigantic forelegs each as big around as the two girls combined.

A rider swung herself from the back of the closer queen, pulling her helmet off as she walked towards Buthaynah and Ghaliyah. A shower of reddish-brown hair poured out and the woman gestured towards Buthaynah, an indecipherable look on her face.


	10. Chapter 10

Ghaliyah watched the queenrider. She had seen her once or twice in the distance during mealtimes, sitting at the High Table with the other leaders. The woman, Favanna, was a remarkable beauty. Her hair was long, filled with bouncing curls and highlights. Her eyes were large and thickly lashed and her body was muscled in the way of dragonriders.

Favanna crooked her finger at Buthaynah. The girl's eyes widened, uncertain around such foreign authority.

Ghaliyah and Buthaynah had been coached by Lady Misra to be polite and subservient to the Weyrwomen but that had been distant, formal communication. Ghaliyah fervently hoped that Favanna had some task in mind that would rid them quickly of her presence.

Another woman, a tall, dark Igen from her looks, dropped from her queen and walked up to Favanna. She leaned familiarly against Favanna's shoulder, smiling down at Buthaynah. The smile did not reach her eyes.

"You, girl," Favanna said to Buthaynah, "Come closer so I may take a look at you. You are one of the Bitrans, are you not?"

Buthaynah relaxed slightly, so that only Ghaliyah noticed. The conversation was formal, then. Buthaynah walked up to the Weyrwoman and stood before her proudly, her chin raised.

Favanna looked her up and down quickly.

"Very well, then," she said, "How would you like to ride a queen?"

The other queenrider laughed.

"Look at the poor girl, Fav. You're scaring her senseless," she said, snidely.

Ghaliyah, who had been watching Buthaynah closely, would not have said as much. Buthaynah had not changed her expression during the inspection. Ghaliyah assumed the remark had been meant to cause such a reaction.

"That is a kind offer, Weyrwoman Favanna," Buthaynah said, "But I would prefer to stay here, with my friend."

Favanna frowned.

"You dare to insult us, Bitran?" Favanna asked, her voice cool.

"No, Weyrwoman."

"Then you will mount Alibith and your friend will mount Minnath."

The other queenrider looked alarmed. She whispered something into Favanna's ear. Favanna smiled.

"Laia tells me that Minnath would prefer not to be ridden-"

Ghaliyah suppressed the urge to raise an eyebrow- why was the Weyrwoman pushing this issue?- as Favanna looked at her.

"-so you both shall ride Alibith."

ØØØ

In short order, Ghaliyah and Buthaynah were sitting astride the great queen dragon. Favanna stood beside her queen, tightening the riding straps. Ghaliyah could feel Buthaynah's anxiety and was uneasy herself. Alibith appeared agitated, her head inclined back to look at Favanna.

Favanna placed a hand on her queen's nose, her eyes slightly unfocused. Alibith calmed somewhat. Ghaliyah's feeling that the queen did not want them there increased.

With a light slap from her rider, the queen launched herself into the air. Minnath rumbled audibly from below.

Alibith caught a thermal and rose rapidly, gaining hundreds of meters in mere moments. Gold wings surrounded the girls.

They continued to climb, the Weyr fading below them. The wind was strong around them, whipping Buthaynah's unbound hair into Ghaliyah's face. Ghaliyah wrapped her arms around Buthaynah as they flew through the air.

Alibith turned abruptly from the tip of her great left wing, spinning one hundred and eighty degrees without warning. She then spun a figure eight, descending as she turned so that the second loop was far below the first. Ghaliyah wanted to smile at the gracefulness of the move but the wind tore at her face. She huddled behind Buthaynah, grateful for what little protection she had from the blasts.

The queen pumped her wings one more time before pulling them tight against her body. They plummeted towards the ground, Alibith spinning in increasingly narrow circles so that the grass came into sharper and sharper focus with each passing breath. Ghaliyah hugged Buthaynah with all her strength, certain that the queen was about to crash into the ground.

Suddenly an awful commanding voice came into her head:

_I go between._

Everything went black.

ØØØ

Buthaynah shuddered that night. Riding Alibith had not been at all like riding the Search dragon. She had never felt so hated, so unwanted in her whole life. She knew the queen had not wanted her or Ghaliyah there. Alibith had been frightened to have the unfamiliar girls riding her. Buthaynah remembered the way her eyes had changed color from a contented blue to a reddish yellow.

Of course, Buthaynah had ridden a runner before. The smaller animals were much more docile and willing to accommodate humans. They rarely cared who was on their back: if they were fed and kept away from tunnelsnakes and other slithering creatures, they were content.

Alibith had been huge. Such a gigantic creature…Buthaynah wondered if, in her unfamiliarity, she had seemed like a tunnelsnake. Why, then, had Favanna told them to ride her? Had she not felt her queen's distress?

Buthaynah pondered these questions all night long, getting little sleep;

In the morning, there was a dull ache in her stomach. Buthaynah groaned to herself. There is no food to be done away with, she thought, Can't you leave me alone?

Her stomach did not listen, naturally, but it also did not protest too much. Buthaynah lay on her cot for a long time, just staring at the dark ceiling. She wondered when the eggs would be ready for Hatching. She wondered when the other Candidates would wake up. She wondered if Alibith had calmed down yet. She wondered a great many things, alone in that crowded cavern.

All of a sudden, her stomach clenched. Here we go, she thought.

Buthaynah stood up to make her way out to the latrines only to have a severe pain stop her. She put a hand to her stomach. Her breathing increased as wave after wave hit her. It was not nausea though, more like monthlies-

With an incredible outpouring, more blood than Buthaynah had ever seen flowed out of her. It did not stop. Nor did the pain.

Buthaynah screamed and collapsed against the soaking-wet floor.


	11. Chapter 11

Wow, there are a lot of people reading this. Please review!

* * *

Khaleel smelled the wrongness before he truly awoke. Sharp, strong, thick, cloying: it was the smell of blood and a lot of it. He did not have time to think before he half-stood in a crouch and surveyed the cavern, searching for the person to whom the blood belonged. His eyes adjusted slowly to the dark but he could not find where the smell came from. It seemed all around him, overwhelming his senses so that he tasted the metallic tang, smelled the thickness of it, and felt the pain in his head.

Then he found her. Buthaynah, the small girl with the black hair. She lay on the floor, barely breathing. Wet, dark blood surrounded her, soaking her clothes.

He reacted instantly, taking his furs and putting them between her legs to stop the bleeding. He awoke Mikail and Mujahid, covering their mouths so that they would not awaken everyone else. Khaleel told them quietly to pick Buthaynah up, that there had been an accident and she needed to see a healer. They nodded, the surety and calm of Khaleel's voice making them trust him.

Tayyib stirred then, as did Suhaiyl. Khaleel told them to run and alert the Weyr healer, which they did without questioning him.

A girl whose name Khaleel did not know followed Mikail and Mujahid as they carried Buthaynah out of the Weyrling Barracks. She reassured Buthaynah, who had awoken when they moved her. She murmured soothing words and stroked Buthaynah's cheeks, telling the girl that everything was going to be okay.

Khaleel hoped she was right.

ØØØ

The Weyr healer was surprised when they brought Buthaynah in. He was a true Healer from Fort, not a rider. Dorjun sent Suhaiyl and Tayyib off to find the Headwoman and as many women as they could find.

Renni appeared soon after, her eyes cat-like from sleep. She and Dorjun spoke in hushed tones, then ordered the boys out. This was a matter for females only, Renni said.

They worked through the early morning wiping the blood away as Buthaynah lapsed in and out of consciousness. The girl from the cavern, a holder from Benden, stayed with her, holding Buthaynah's hand in her own. Ghaliyah came in over an hour later. She told Renni that Buthaynah's cot and furs had been taken out of the cavern to be burned. Renni nodded and sent Ghaliyah away as well, telling her to get some rest, that there was nothing she could do to help Buthaynah now.

"Headwoman?" the holder girl, Meg, asked much later when Buthaynah had fallen asleep again.

They sat watching her. The bleeding had stopped and Buthaynah had taken enough fellis juice to be delightfully numb. Someone had brought in klah and rolls, though none of them felt much like eating.

"Yes, my dear?" Renni replied, her voice tinged with exhaustion.

Meg stared into her klah as she spoke.

"I think I know what happened to her, Buthaynah, I mean," Meg said, "I have no brothers or sisters, you see, though my mother has tried many times. It's only ever been me. It used to be, when I was little, that she would get with child- I always used to hope that I'd have a little sister-" she smiled, then, "But it never happened. Ma would start her monthlies again right when she was certain she was pregnant- that's what she said they were, monthlies anyway, but the bl-blood that c-came out was too much. It was sc-scary, it was so much blood…"

Meg trailed off, her voice cracking with emotion. A tear ran down the left side of her face. Renni pulled her into a hug, letting the girl cry.

Healer Dorjun nodded and took a sip of his klah.

"You may well be right, Meg. What you describe is a miscarriage, when the child separates from its mother too early, causing a heavy menstrual flow. There are other possibilities, though. We cannot know until your friend wakes up."

"Sh-she's not really my friend," Meg stammered, pulling away from Renni, "We are both Candidates. She's one of them Bitrans, so I never really talked to her. I just didn't want to leave her there, on the floor. It wouldn't be right, even if she is a bad person."

Healer Dorjun frowned, then shook his head wearily.

"I'm glad that you acted as you did. I cannot say I knew her myself before this morning but it is a very useful trait to want to help people simply because they are hurt. Very useful."

ØØØ

Word spread through the Weyr quickly that a Bitran Candidate had been hurt. Speculation as to the cause of the damage was rampant, everyone from another Candidate to the Weyrlingmaster becoming suspect. Once Buthaynah awoke and it was confirmed that she had had a miscarriage, the speculation only grew.

It was one word from Ghaliyah, though, that turned everything on its head. When asked if Buthaynah had gone _between_ recently, Ghaliyah told Renni of the ride on Alibith the day before. It might not have been Renni that spread the news along, but soon the whole Weyr knew of the incident- and it was not chance that people assumed a spiteful spirit behind the singular experience of a queen allowing someone other than her rider mount her. Queens were too proud to carry anyone else.

Favanna was called in to see the Weyrleader. The beautiful woman walked past many a rider who suddenly stopped talking as she passed by.

"Weyrleader," Favanna said, bowing her head as she walked into his apartments.

Galla and S'grall stood before her, Galla's arms folded and her expression cold.

"Do you know why you are here, rider Favanna?" S'grall asked, his tone carefully even.

Favanna winced at the insult. She was a queenrider, a Weyrwoman, and he had called her by the lowest word that had any rank.

"I have my beliefs, Weyrleader, but I cannot be assured that they are correct," she said, keeping her eyes to the ground.

She could feel S'grall's boring into her.

"You have been accused of deliberately, and maliciously, causing injury to a Candidate, so much so that Healer Dorjun says that you ind-indaduced-" he stumbled on the unfamiliar word.

Favanna grinned slightly, then cursed herself for the foolish reaction. S'grall did not seem pleased.

"You caused Buthaynah to lose her child," Galla hissed, covering S'grall's mistake, "Do you understand how serious this is, Favanna? She and the rest of those Candidates from Bitra are here as part of an agreement we made with that Hold. Your stupid act has jeopardized everything."

"I understand, Weyrwoman," Favanna whispered.

"You will be grounded for the next five months," S'grall said, his voice tight with anger, "Alibith may fly to feed, nothing more-"

Favanna gasped.

"You would ground a queen? You can't do that, S'grall!"she said, her face flushing with anger.

She met S'grall's gaze and found no sympathy there.

"You are also stripped of your title of Weyrwoman, Favanna. You may keep your weyr only because that cannot be taken from you under Weyr custom. Is that clear?"

Favanna bit her lip, trying not to let her indignant thoughts show. Queens couldn't have their rights taken away, not for just a mistake, could they? She had only meant to scare the girls, not cause a miscarriage. How was she to know the girl had been with child?

"You are dismissed, Favanna."

Favanna left the Weyrleader's apartments, her thoughts roiling inside of her mind. Seconds later, she felt a hand on her shoulder, spinning her around.

A hard slap made her stumble against the wall. Favanna clutched her face, knowing who stood before her: Galla, the true leader of the Weyr, the one who she had let down.

Galla spat her next words at Favanna, her tone filled with barely contained fury.

"You have embarrassed me and the entire Weyr, Favanna. Do you understand that, you stupid girl? I had half a mind to send you to another Weyr but none would want to take you now, you filthy weyrbrat."

Tears rolled down Favanna's cheek. She had never been so humiliated. Surely Galla's words could be heard by everyone.

"I simply did as you told me, Weyrwoman-" Favanna said, only to be slapped again.

"As I told you?" Galla shrieked, "Did I tell you to kill that slut's unborn child? No, I told you to make those girls wish they were back at Bitra. But did you do that? No, you proud Favanna, sniveling half-breed whelp of a rider and a holder, decided you were going to do it your way. You are so lucky that that girl did not want that child or you-" Galla held up a hand, making Favanna recoil in expectation, "would be banned from this Weyr."

Galla spit in Favanna's face.

"You really are starting to make me wonder if those rumors about Alibith's birth are true," Galla sneered, "Maybe there was something wrong with her because, after all, she chose _you_."

Galla stomped off, leaving Favanna in the hallway. The pain of Galla's blows was strong but Favanna knew that was not why the hot tears poured from her eyes. She sank against the stone wall, a hand covering her disgraced face as she broke down. Favanna could hear Alibith crooning in her mind, grieving with her but Favanna blocked the memory of Galla's words from her queen, knowing that the effect on her would tear them both apart.

Favanna cried in that hallway, the humiliated queenrider who had lost everything but her dragon.


	12. Chapter 12

The time period for this story is before the Ninth Pass but after Moreta's time. The sizes are within Moreta's time, where the greens are at the smallest twenty feet and the queens are at least twice that length. They are small at Hatching. Girls Impress greens but it is an infrequent occurrence with around ten to twenty girls standing at a non-Queen Hatching.

I received a comment about the harshness of the women. That made me smile. Later on, it will become more obvious that the Weyrwomen aren't completely evil, just in a desperate power-play as the Weyr comes into the next Pass. Galla is the Senior Weyrwoman but Favanna is Weyr-bred and the two are close in age. Favanna's mistake benefits Galla even though it hurts the Weyr.

* * *

After Favanna's falling out with the Weyrleaders, the woman stayed out of sight. She did not visit the girl who had cost her everything; she did not eat at the High Table; she did not even venture out of her weyr. Alibith stayed with her rider, out of sight.

Buthaynah recovered several days after and was unpleasantly confronted with a completely new attitude from the Weyrfolk. People who had before ignored her and watched her with dislike now called out to her, asking after her health. She was invited to eat with so many people at mealtimes that it took all of her resolve not to scream. Her fellow Bitrans were given similar treatment. Suhaiyl and Tayyib's eerily twin-like beauty had already captured the imagination of more than one rider, as had Khaleel's unconscious sultriness, but now all six were treated like royalty.

They hated it. The falseness screamed inside their minds, their natural caution telling them that this sugar-coated behavior would fade away soon and cold reality would return. If the Bitrans revealed too much of themselves now, all could be lost.

The eggs hardened, a last warning for vigilance.

ØØØ

_A Sevenday Later_

_Training room, Benden Weyr_

"Class dismissed," G'plin said.

The dragonets and their riders left, the click of claws and boots echoing in the tunnel as they walked out. It was a pretty sight, all the colors blending as the dragonets slipped out.

"Weyrlingmaster?" said a clear voice.

The Weyrlingmaster turned to see Buthaynah, one of the Bitran Candidates. He remembered that she was the one who had just gotten out of the infirmary less than a sevenday ago. She had hardly missed a day of class on sick leave.

"Yes, Candidate Buthaynah, how may I help you?" G'plin asked, looking down kindly at the girl.

She was almost his height already, with a good build and fine posture. Buthaynah smiled.

"I was wondering if I could talk to you about something," she said, a finger at her lip, "You remember how you told us the very first day to tell you if we thought we might not be right to be a Candidate?"

"Are you having second thoughts? Is this about what happened just recently? It's possible to be a dragonrider and still have children. You can make it work, Buthaynah, you don't _have_ to choose one or the other," he said.

_It would be a real pity to lose such a hard-working girl_, G'plin thought.

_Yes, she is so strong_, Juleth agreed, _I like her very much._

"Yes and no," Buthaynah said, looking him in the eye, "I have thought a lot about this. I just don't think I'm meant to be a Candidate."

G'plin pressed his lips together.

"Are you sure? Is this what you really want, Buthaynah?" he asked, "Benden Weyr does not have all that many boys and girls to stand for Impression."

"I know," Buthaynah said, shaking her head, "And I'm okay with my decision."

G'plin sighed.

"If it's what you really want," he said.

"It is," Buthaynah said, her voice sure.

ØØØ

Buthaynah was moved out of the Weyrling Barracks later that day. She would stay on in the Weyr with the women of the Lower Caverns as a cook and drudge. Renni had her serving food by the next meal. It suited Buthaynah to work around food.

Lady Misra sent her approval in a letter.

ØØØ

At the sound of a soft hiss, Darali, Junior Weyrwoman of Benden, stirred.

_It is time._ Yasmuth told her.

Darali smiled. Though their clutch had been small, she had awaited this moment for months.

_I love you,_ she told the dragon whose life had since birth been forever entwined with hers.

_I love you, too, little one, _the queen answered.

_Come, let us announce our joy to the Weyr._

Yasmuth opened her great golden muzzle and roared. Darali's mouth widened with her queen's, echoing her massive roar.

ØØØ

The humming began in earnest. It was rare for Clutches to be as close together as Alibith's and Yasmuth's and, though the Red Star's menacing presence made the reason clear, it excited the dragons and Weyrfolk alike.

G'plin led his charges into the Hatching Ground, this time with six Bitrans in tow.

Ghaliyah, the one who felt Buthaynah's absence most keenly, tilted her head up proudly and stood next to two other girls. The boys also spread out to avoid becoming an obvious focus for the curious eyes of the spectators, excluding Suhaiyl and Tayyib who stood together. Their hands were clasped as always, tighter than normal, both knowing the painful probability that in a very short time they would be wrenched apart.

"Are you ready?" Mujahid asked Ghaliyah.

Somehow, in the mess of Candidates, he had made his way back to her. Ghaliyah smiled, keeping her lips closed. Mujahid put a hand on her shoulder.

"We _will_ Impress, girl. Just follow what the Weyrlingmaster said: keep your face blank, show no fear, and wait for the dragonet to find you. It's that simple."

Ghaliyah nodded and blew out a tense breath. She looked out over the Sands and caught Mikail's eye. _It'll be okay_, he mouthed.

A loud crack broke the anxious air. Mujahid squeezed Ghaliyah's shoulder before letting go.

Her fate was hers alone.

ØØØ

Khaleel, surrounded by a people not his own, clenched his fists together. It was the last second he could let any fear show. He let go and listened to the first scratchings of the dragonets against their egg-prisons.

An egg splotched with incandescent smudges was the first to break open. A brown head, incredibly small, poked through. The egg rocked back and forth, and then split with a thunderous smash. Cheers from the watching crowd reached out shrilly to the Sands.

The little brown tripped and slammed into the egg next to him. It cracked, throwing shards onto the eggs surrounding it. Suddenly, three brown dragons joined the first. As clumsy as their brother, the three stumbled pitifully towards the Candidates.

A brown-eyed blonde was the first to Impress, dropping down to touch the newly-hatched dragonet. He caressed his brown, calling his name out to the crowd.

Khaleel did not hear the name. He focused on the eggs still rocking. The eggs shook harder and harder as the humming increased in intensity.

Cracks resounded through the cavern as more and more eggs split, revealing dragonets. Khaleel saw a miniscule green slither sleekly out of her shell. She was far more graceful than her brothers and moved purposefully towards the spot where Ghaliyah stood. Khaleel watched the little green, certain that Ghaliyah would have her. She stepped towards the girl, barely a handspan away, but then stopped. Confused, Khaleel saw Mujahid drop to the ground, cradling the green's head. He walked out of the cavern with her, all the while petting her and crooning to her.

Ghaliyah, noticing Khaleel watching, looked up at him and shrugged. Khaleel grinned and shook his head. G'plin had been right: the dragonets had minds of their own.

There were eggs still uncracked, though, so Khaleel looked back at them. He tried to focus on the hatchlings but was distracted when he saw one find Ghaliyah. Mikail followed in Impression soon after, with a dark, burly green.

Khaleel swallowed. His anxiety was riding up. How have I not Impressed? He thought, his thoughts unreassuringly frantic. Do they not want me? Am I going to leave here alone?

Thud.

Khaleel landed on his back hard, a heavy weight on his chest. He winced and tried to pushed it off. Something shrieked. Khaleel looked up and felt himself falling into the most beautiful blue eyes he had ever seen.

_I am Pirveth. Why you push me away? I not like that._

Khaleel's expression softened instantly as he put a hand up to stroke the beautiful green dragonet. _His_ green dragonet.

ØØØ

Tayyib snorted as he watched the green knock Khaleel to the ground. The boy had been in his own world, not paying a lick of attention to the dragonet circling him. She had become visibly irritated and apparently decided he needed some sense knocked into him, pun intended.

Why am I thinking about puns right now? He thought.

There really was nothing better to do. The dragonets had not seem interested in him in the slightest, passing him by for other Candidates. Tayyib watched bronze, brown, and green pass by.

Suhaiyl had Impressed as the second wave of eggs started to crack, to Hamseth. The pair was gone and Tayyib had already decided that, as long as Suhaiyl still wanted him, he would stay around the Weyr. Maybe he could join Buthaynah in the kitchens or help in the stockrooms. It would hardly be the first time Tayyib had done menial labor.

Then, a dragonet touched his leg. Tayyib looked down and met Fiyaleth, his lifemate, the most wonderful blue on Pern, for the very first time.


	13. Chapter 13

Hmmm. Have I created my own world yet? I hope my spin on Pern is not offensive to those who believe Pern is the most perfect society that could ever exist. But, the dragons must grow and Thread must Fall and problems must occur, and so they do. Any opinions on the Impression? I almost changed Mikail or Mujahid's green to a brown but I couldn't do it. I'll elaborate later. Reviews, questions, approvals, flames, anything would be appreciated im Moment.

* * *

Weyrling training began in earnest. Thread was coming and there was little time to prepare for a danger no one alive had ever experienced. There were, of course, Records and training methods from hundreds of Turns before but, until the day Thread returned, there was no certainty in the accuracy thereof.

The dragonets grew fast and the Weyrling Barracks became packed quickly. Within a few months Alibith's children were ready for their own Weyrs and there was more space. But the dragonets were on average growing larger than those before them, causing some concern among the Weyr. There had been an unprecedentedly large amount of bronzes in Yasmuth's Clutch, eight in all, and the Wings with available spaces were not looking forward to weyr arrangements. The smaller dragons were hardly a problem; never growing as excessively large as the bronzes, browns, blues, and greens would always find suitably spacious weyrs.

It became increasingly hard for Weyrlingmaster G'plin to remember that his charges were paired with barely Turn-old dragons as training continued. Only one of his previous classes had been training for Threadfall and the pressure had never been so strong. The dragonets had in earlier times been allowed to play and grow with ease, having no need for severe regiments and tactics.

There were, however, times when the immature reality came through blaringly clear, like the day Hamseth, the prettiest green in the class, lost her footing and forgot that her wings were meant for flight.

The little green had squealed as she slid across the stone floor. Her claws scrambled to catch any surface, her speed not slowing at all. She slid right out of the cavern onto the ledge overlooking the Weyr grounds. She shrieked as she found purchase on the rough-hewn rock just off the lip of the cavern.

She shrieked again, her small voice crying out for help. The green's brothers and sisters ran to help her, a few of them stumbling and sliding dangerously close to her. The tiny dragonets screeched after her as their riders tried to help. S'haiyl threw himself to the ground and reached out his arms to grab her but he was not strong enough.

She threw her claws towards her rider, scraping his hands and wrists. When he could not pull her back up, she squealed again, the loose rock crumbling under her weight. Tears poured down S'haiyl's cheeks.

Suddenly, her claws slipped and she fell. S'haiyl screamed as his darling dropped to the ground, where she landed with a solid thump.

A great brown head lifted up, the eyes whirling a bemused color. The riders and dragonets looked down to see S'haiyl's green lying safely between his shoulder ridges. With a beat of his monstrous wings, Juleth brought her back up to her rider. S'haiyl hugged her tightly, his wet cheeks pressed against her neck. She warbled a reassurance.

T'yib hugged the both of them, his blue Fiyaleth butting her little head, checking Hamseth all over for damage.

Weyrlingmaster G'plin chuckled.

"It seems Hamseth is perfectly fine, S'haiyl," he said.

The boy looked up, embarrassed. He wiped his face in an effort to look more presentable.

"Thank you, Weyrlingmaster. And you, too, Juleth."

G'plin had laughed over the incident later, in private. He absolutely adored being Weyrlingmaster.

ØØØ

The Red Star came ever closer, its red glare reminding all of Pern that they would soon have to watch the skies for the all-consuming scourge.

Lady Misra and all of Bitra Hold thanked their Lady of Bitra that they were now secure in draconic protection, an issue that had been raised with several of the previous Lord Holders, who had, under slippery, unfaithful Bitran logic, rightly announced the removal of the honor-bound tithes and Search rights during the harmless Interval. If nature did not pose a threat, what use was support of the Weyrs? They had asked.

At Benden Weyr, Wingleaders began observing G'plin's classes. They searched out talented fliers, cautious riders, group-oriented minds, and quick equipment changers. In everything except personality, the Bitran riders and their dragons were found favorable, though not the best of the class. They were in the middle, solid in everything they needed to know and do.

Favorite pairs were sought out, the resulting envy of the non-chosen widely considered a push to become better. Meg, the girl who had watched over Buthaynah, and Lilualith, her green, were fought over by three Wingleaders. The girl had been embarrassed over the attention but her ability to notice, categorize, and simultaneously react to various distracting stimuli was unparalleled. K'leel and Pirveth were also popular, though many whispered that that had more to do with the rider's looks than his performance in the air.

G'plin had noticed, though, S'haiyl's and T'yib's relationship was beginning to pose problems. Their devotion to one another had spread to Hamseth and Fiyaleth, who were equally inseperable. The two were hardly the first Weyrling affair that G'plin had seen but S'haiyl's Hamseth was the object of much dragon attention. She was a gorgeous, shapely green and even Juleth had become susceptible to her charms. Hamseth and her rider were thus unpopular choices for the Wingleaders. Green dragons could be very possessive of their weyrmates and inter-Wing jealousy could prove hazardous in the air. Fiyaleth was far too young for the two to be declared weyrmates, too young even to be sexually attracted to one another.

G'plin would have to call in some favors for those two. He had done it before but the complications of their Bitran origins, though lessened by their Impressions, were still rampant and would surely affect anything he could argue.


	14. Chapter 14

The flight of dragons appeared over the Red Butte, that famous training plateau where every dragon that had ever lived had learned to go between. Red dust floated in a soft storm around the high plateau as the Weyrlings landed.

A full-grown green stretched languidly at the very center of the butte, looking for all the world like a spit hound as she used her hindleg to scratch behind her wing. Her rider, one of the many flight trainers for the Weyrlings, stood next to her, his helmet under his arm. He shielded his eyes from the sun as he watched the Weyrlings come into land.

The dragons touched down with varying levels of skill, the greens lithe and graceful and the bronzes harsh and talentless. Bronzes never were good for slight movements. They were powerful creatures, best at tasks involving strength and endurance. Had wolves ever made it to Pern, L'yown would have compared the great bronzes to them.

G'plin strode towards L'yown, offering his hand in greeting. It was a formality for the Weyrlings' sake: the two knew each other well, having flown in the same Wing Turns before.

Razith, L'yown's green, blinked at the Weyrlingmaster before sending a flirtatious coo to Juleth. G'plin just grinned at Razith, used to her ways. Juleth ducked his head and snorted.

The Weyrlings lined up next to their dragons in the order G'plin had taught them. The order had no real meaning; it was in imitation of a traditional Wing formation with modifications for the ten additional dragons, a traditional Wing only having thirty-three dragons.

"We are going to practice falling today," L'yown said loudly, projecting his voice so that all of the Weyrlings could hear him, "We will start with grip adjustments and continue on to remounting safely. Is anyone scared of heights? You better learn to swallow your fear."

A few riders gulped. It was quite a different thing to recover from a tumble off of a small green, who had only seven-foot safety straps, than a half-grown bronze or brown who was trouble enough to mount the first time round.

ØØØ

Buthaynah saw her fellow Bitrans often. She worked in the kitchens mostly, though 'kitchen work' could be anything from changing glows to cleaning tables, and soon grew to know most of the Weyr's riders. An attractive enough girl, it was not long before a lonely bronze or brown rider cast a lustful gaze in her direction. The Weyr was more tolerant of promiscuity than Buthaynah's original holding and she forgot Yusef completely.

When Fall returned, Buthaynah was pregnant again. She had also become one of Headwoman Renni's most trusted workers, with responsibility over the evening shift. The work was not difficult for a hard-working girl and Buthaynah was happy with her new life.

ØØØ

Though Wingleaders had watched G'plin's classes, the Weyrlings did not join the fighting Wings. Weyrleader S'grall had asked that Yasmuth's Clutch not be integrated so that the Weyr could have Weyrlings to transport firestone. In six months, there would be enough casualties and exhausted riders- S'grall was naturally realistic- to fill out the Wings.

Thread fell every three days over Benden's territory. The Falls lasted from four to six hours with varying weights and densities due to weather conditions. The Weyrlings were required to work for the entire Fall, going between every half hour with more firestone for the Wings. They were fairly safe from the menace of Thread so long as they paid attention to where they flew but slight scores were common. A blue rider had had a nasty ridge cut into his shoulder several weeks ago that had been caused by a half-charred clump of Thread.

During the off days, the Weyrlings met with their trainers for lessons or with G'plin for chores. There was always equipment to repair and firestone bags to fill, and it was no less exhausting being the rider of a two-and-a-half-Turn-old dragon than a dragonet.

ØØØ

The most interesting lesson came the sevenday before the Mating Season began. Green dragons followed different mating patterns than their queens. They matured sexually around their third birthday with the advent of a mating flight. L'yown and several other greenriders were given the task of explaining the rules of mating to the Weyrlings.

Over the Turns they had spent working with him, the Weyrlings had learned of L'yown's reputation as one of, if not _the_, loosest riders in the Weyr.

The Weyrlings were assembled inside for this particular discussion, in an open cavern with a carefully sanded wall for chalk drawings. It was typically used for strategy lectures and was big enough for all forty-three riders to sit and stand comfortably. The greenriders were told to sit near the front because the information discussed would be most relevant to them. Threadfall had been the day before and everyone was tired, lounging rather disrespectfully and leaning against one another.

Ghaliyah, Meg, and Nieschka, the only females in the whole group, were situated to the right of the board. Nieschka was playing with Ghaliyah's hair while Meg slumped against her arm, her eyes half-closed. Several of the blue and greenriders were also messing around, though the browns were at fast attention. They were always serious. The bronzeriders stood at the back, apparently not thinking the discussion involved them.

S'haiyl sat with T'yib, his head in the bluerider's lap. The Turns since their Impression had changed S'haiyl's body dramatically. He was almost a head taller than T'yib now, with long, soft blonde hair falling around his shoulders. S'haiyl's face was more angular than it had been, with prominent cheekbones. There was still a remarkable resemblance between the lovers but it took little effort to distinguish one from the other.

T'yib's fingers were tangled in S'haiyl's hair and, every so often, they would look at one another in a way that stirred something inside the groins of the blue- and greenriders in the room.

The Weyrlings' instructors seemed rather amused by the situation. It was, after all, not often that they could talk openly about the sexual natures of the green dragons.

Br'alak, a bluerider, was given little attention as he droned on about the effects of increased sunlight on estrus and the lordosis reflex, the first meaning heat and the second…well, they would learn that if they paid attention. M'jid, whose family bred strawberry roan runners, asked whether greens went into heat only once per year or if they could be more sexually active. K'leel and a mass of greenriders snickered when Br'alak became flushed and embarrassed, and stuttered in answering the question.

L'yown's mouth had pulled into a very attractive crooked smile.

"If you're asking whether your dragon can have sex more than once a year," he began, smiling wickedly- Br'alak and another rider suddenly decided the ceiling needed their attention, "You and your greenie can have fun anytime. Mating flights are really just when she's too pent up to wait anymore. You two don't even need another dragon to play around with."

Br'alak's face turned bright red as several of the Weyrlings looked up in interest. The other instructors looked either mortified or absolutely entertained by L'yown's words.

"We're not supposed to be corrupting them," F'imor murmured, looking at his co-rider.

L'yown's look turned predatory.

"But it's so much more fun that way. Weyrlings really shouldn't be scared that mating flights are the only time the dragons can get off or the rider, for that matter."

"Shut up, L'yown," Br'alak groaned.

"Like they were interested in what you had to say," L'yown shot back, before flashing the Weyrlings a grin, "It's normal not to have a weyrmate until your dragon's fully grown so you two have plenty of time to figure out what feels good and what type of dragons he or she finds attractive. Most riders are perfectly willing to join in on dragon sex, especially other gree-"

"L'yown, I really don't think they need to know that-" an instructor interrupted.

"It's true-"

"They're young-"

"All the more reason to tell them about different positions-"

"Please, not another discussion about who's best in bed-"

"Why? You don't want one of them knocking on your Weyr tomorrow? Think about it, fresh, new me-"

"Shut up, L'yown!"

That last statement came from more than one rider. Br'alak looked about to die: he had a weyrmate, thank you very much, and was rather less sexually open than L'yown.

The discussion died down after that, with more talk of sunlight and the signs of heat. The Weyrlings heard descriptions of waking up to an aroused green and the formal way of leaving an unfamiliar weyr after a mating flight. The bronze and brownriders learned that they had to be careful around greenriders who were spoken for, as knocking a green's weyrmate out of the air could be considered rape, as could unwanted advances to a greenrider. Greenriders had the right to declare open flights ahead of time, in which all sorts of behavior was allowed. Razith, L'yown's life partner, always had open flights, as did several older greenriders.

The Weyrlings were told about a high field several kilometers from Benden Weyr, where green mating flights took place. It was considered unacceptable for a greenrider to allow his or her dragon to rise inside the Weyr, because of the danger of setting other greens off and causing an aerial battle between dragons. Weyrleader S'grall had also declared that the Weyrling class greens have assisted mating flights for their first time. Assisted mating flights were those in which designated experienced blue and brownriders flew the young greens. This practice ensured violence-free flights and forced the greenriders to focus more on getting through the flight than on who was in their bed.

S'haiyl had tensed when he had heard the Weyrleader's pronouncement. His beautiful face had turned up to T'yib, unsure of how the other man would feel about that. T'yib had looked away and, even when the class was over, had refused to talk about it with him.

Most of the other greenriders were just glad to have someone who would get them through that hellish first mating flight safely. There were too many rumors circulating in the Weyr about rough bedmates and strained relationships caused by a green in heat.

* * *

Please, if you enjoyed this, review! I'd love some feedback.


	15. Chapter 15

I know I drifted a bit in this chapter but I did not want to put too much emphasis on a first mating flight (virgins are anxious enough messes as it is without me telling the sexual experiences of five greenriders) but I'll slide back to talk about that. I might add in a chapter between this one and chapter 14 because I feel like something's missing. Please, enjoy for the time being.

..Herzlich Willkommen zur Revolution!"- Revolution, Panik

* * *

_Two Turns later_

There is an icy pain when you learn that people no longer care enough about you to hate you. Once, the boys Mikail and Mujahid were hated for where and to who they were born, so hated that everyone wanted to watch them drown in Benden's icy lake, the cold, blue-black water turning their bodies a whitish-blue death shade until their heavy corpses sank to the very bottom, never to be dredged up again, in body or in thought. Now, when Turns have passed since a rider looked their way and saw something other than their shoulder-knots, the two riders live in anonymity.

Even fighting Thread offers no hope of acknowledgement. They are lifemates to greens, the most common and least respected dragons in any Weyr. No act of bravery or quick action warrants the notice of more than their Wingmates. Not that they fly in the same Wing, M'jid is with bronzerider H'mrit and M'kai is with T'kith. They see each other on occasion; sometimes, they fly together back to Bitra. They know they can only see their families for a few hours, more because of the disappointment reflecting in their mothers' eyes and the cold hatred in their fathers', than any Weyr-dictated reason.

"I did not ask to be a dragonrider," M'kai had once told M'jid in private, "Even though Dyath is my life, sometimes, sometimes, I wish I could go back and be a holder. I dream of being in Bitra again. I long for the green hills and the lonely cotholdings."

M'jid had studied his friend. M'kai's sadness echoed his own, that stranded feeling of being less than what they could have been. Less than what they should have been.

"We would have died from Thread had we never come here," M'jid had whispered, pushing a strand of hair back from M'kai's thin face, "Dyath and Glimath are the fulfillment of the promise we made to Bitra."

"I love her…but I want to go home again," M'kai had said.

"We are dead to Bitra. This is our home now," M'jid had said solemnly.

Then he had kissed M'kai. M'kai had just looked at him and told him quietly that Dyath was a green, and M'jid had learned of the one other thing his dragon had cost him: a chance to be with the man he loved.

ØØØ

Ghaliyah shooed Rimath off to their weyr once her saddle was off. Rimath, exhausted from the hours of Thread fighting, left willingly to go sunbathe. Ghaliyah hung the saddle on the rack next to the Wingsecond's and went to the Lower Caverns, intent on a hot meal.

It was uncharacteristically warm for late winter. The Thread had not frozen into black dust over Nerat as the Wingleaders had hoped and the Wings had been forced into a seven-hour flight. Ghaliyah and the other greenriders had only flown five hours of it. They had spent the rest of the time meeting with groundcrews and reassuring holders that the Threadfall was over.

Ghaliyah slid into a seat next to her Wingmates. T'lyn, their Wingleader, congratulated them on an injury-free Fall. Food was placed before the dragonriders and they ate swiftly, to the amusement of the women serving them. Once finished, the riders headed off to their weyrs on the level above.

Undoing her plaited hair as she walked, Ghaliyah did not at first notice the other woman's presence in her weyr. Ghaliyah walked in, throwing her gloves onto the bed. She went into her dragon's apartment and stopped, horrified, at the entrance.

"Get your hands off of her!" she snapped.

The woman lifted her beautiful head. Ghaliyah's body dropped into a fighting stance automatically. She slid the knife out from the inside of her boot, meaning to attack the woman bold enough to touch Rimath.

"Wait!" Favanna said, throwing her hands in front of her chest, "Please, I don't mean any harm!"

Ghaliyah paused. Rimath seemed distressed but only because her rider was on edge. The Weyrwoman put a hand to Rimath's wing and the green did not move away. She did not so much as twitch under Favanna's touch. Rimath's calm mind pressed against Ghaliyah's reassuringly. The fierce jealousy swimming in Ghaliyah's head did not match Rimath's mood and Ghaliyah was forced to put the knife back.

She straightened, regaining control of herself, and watched the woman.

_Why do you let her touch you? _Ghaliyah asked Rimath.

"She can't help it," Favanna said before Rimath could answer, smiling up at the green.

Ghaliyah walked over to her. The need to touch Rimath was too strong to resist. Rimath was _hers_ and she had to show the Weyrwoman that.

"You can hear her?" Ghaliyah asked cautiously.

People who could hear all dragons were rare and Ghaliyah had never knowingly met one before.

"No," Favanna said, "But Rimath can talk to me through Alibith, when she wants to."

Ghaliyah hissed.

"You've talked to her before?" she said, sending the words as a private message to Rimath as well.

_We have talked_, her green said, _I like this Weyrwoman very much. Why do you not?_

Ghaliyah blinked. She realized then that she had never told Rimath about things before her Hatching. Ghaliyah had always assumed that her dragon knew everything about her.

_Darling, she is a mean person. She hurt my friend a very long time ago._

_She is nice to _me_._

"Why are you here, Favanna?" Ghaliyah asked.

The Weyrwoman must have been quiet while Rimath and Ghaliyah had been speaking because Ghaliyah could not remember if she had replied to her earlier question.

"I came to apologize," Favanna said, absently stroking Rimath's wing in a way that made Ghaliyah's blood boil, "The scare I gave you and Buthaynah- I want your forgiveness."

"What is done is done, Weyrwoman. You ask for something that is not mine to give. Good day," Ghaliyah said, her dark eyes hard as flint.

Favanna continued to stroke Rimath, her eyes distant.

"You know, greens are my favorite color, after golds, of course."

Ghaliyah suppressed a frown.

"I used to wonder if I should have been a greenrider. Alibith always tells me no, that I am hers and only hers but there is always that doubt. I'm sure you've heard the rumors of Alibith's birth, yes?"

Ghaliyah nodded, not quite caring where Favanna's story was going. Only the woman's rank kept Ghaliyah from throwing Favanna out of her weyr. A Weyrwoman was to be respected.

"Well, almost twelve Turns ago, I was just a Weyrbrat, hardly even fourteen Turns. My father was a Wingleader, a great strong bronzerider. He just knew I was going to Impress and Impress well. So he kept me from the Sands until a queen egg was laid. Clutches were rarer then than they are now, and I only missed two Hatchings. Kikereth, the only queen at Benden, was old when she laid the queen egg. I don't know how much you know of Weyr history, but Kikereth and Milla, her rider, ruled Benden Weyr for eighty Turns. Kikereth only laid one queen egg in that whole time and that was Alibith."

Favanna paused, her long fingers splayed against Rimath's hide.

"Milla had been nineteen Turns when she Impressed Kikereth, making her almost one hundred when Kikereth laid the queen egg. Milla was very old, even for a dragonrider, and her heart gave out one night, a sevenday after that last Clutch. Kikereth went _between_.

The Clutch lay on the Hatching Sands unattended. A queen had to be found to care for the eggs and to lead Benden until our queen hatched. There were six queens in all of Pern at that time, Imath of Fort, Utilath of Telgar, Minhiath of High Reaches, Tuleth of Ista, Piosth of Igen, and Biheth of Igen."

Favanna caught Ghaliyah's surprise and chuckled softly.

"You know Biheth, she is Galla's queen. Galla was originally the Junior Weyrwoman of Igen and Kikereth's death was the chance for her to become _the_ Weyrwoman of Benden. The other queens could not leave their Weyrs- a queenless Weyr falls quickly into disaster- and so it was decided that Galla and Biheth should come to Benden.

But they could not: Biheth was seven months old and could not go _between_ yet. She was huge, far too big to be carried by other dragons, and so the pair had to stay at Igen until Biheth matured. The eggs lay on the Sands for three days, motherless.

Then, green Yseth presented herself to the Weyrleader. She said that she had been Kikereth's sister and that they had Hatched at the same time. Yseth went into the Hatching Grounds and curled herself around the queen egg. She sang to the Clutch and stayed with it for months, her rider at her side. Even when Biheth was able to go _between_, Yseth did not leave the Clutch. Galla and Biheth took over the Weyrwoman's apartments but they knew, if the queen in that egg lived long enough to Hatch, they would never truly be the leaders of Benden.

But, when the day of the Hatching came, five eggs did not Hatch. Alibith and four others left with riders that day but the other eggs were cold and lifeless. The Weyrleader took them _between_ and the Weyr mourned even as they celebrated my Alibith's birth."

"Why are you telling me this?" Ghaliyah asked, once the shock of the story faded.

It was a sad tale but Ghaliyah had been lied to all her life and knew that selective words could turn the same story from horrific to joyful.

"Ghaliyah, even if you hate me, I am still a queenrider. I would rather you know my story and hate me than hate a woman you barely ever met. When I set you on Alibith's back, I only wanted to scare you. I was scared to have a Bitran become a rider in my Weyr because I was always taught that Bitrans were evil people who would take advantage of their own mothers. But, since you Impressed, I have heard only good things about you and Rimath, and I want to apologize for hating you. I truly am sorry, rider Ghaliyah."

Ghaliyah sighed and bit her lip.

"I accept your apology, Weyrwoman, and I will respect you as the Weyr dictates. That is all I can promise."

Favanna nodded and took her hand off of Rimath.

"Thank you," she said as she left Ghaliyah's weyr.


	16. Chapter 16

_Buthaynah's room, Lower Caverns_

_Benden Weyr_

"I forgave her Turns ago. Why can't you, Ghaliyah?" Buthaynah asked calmly, her large eyes turned up at her friend.

They were in Buthaynah's bedroom, a small alcove off of the kitchens. There was little room for more than a bed and a chest but Buthaynah had added her own touches, even having a vase that she kept filled with fresh wildflowers on her nightstand.

Buthaynah sat at her small wooden table. The chair next to her was empty.

Ghaliyah paced, unable to believe what Buthaynah had told her.

"How can I? Buthaynah, you could have been a dragonrider! You could have had the world and she took that from you! She killed the child that was still inside of you-"

"A child I never wanted."

Ghaliyah stared at her open-mouthed. Then, she shook her head in amazement.

"Do you not remember the pain you felt when you lost the babe? You were bleeding, Buthaynah, bleeding like nothing I'd ever seen! You could have died."

"But I didn't. Ghaliyah, you are so angry, it's frightening. Please, sit down."

Ghaliyah glared at her but sat.

"Weyrwoman Favanna is just that, a Weyrwoman. You gain nothing by hating her. Look at what you have, Ghaliyah. You are a greenrider and you are alive and healthy. You call Benden Weyr home and you are not chained down in marriage to a holder ten Turns older than you."

Ghaliyah's eyes flashed but Buthaynah's words made sense.

Buthaynah reached out a kind hand to cup Ghaliyah's chin, bringing the other woman's eyes up to look at her own.

"Ghaliyah," Buthaynah said, a small smile on her lips, "Let it go. Do this for me."

ØØØ

_Benden Weyr_

S'haiyl stood, tossing the bedfurs onto the man still lying on the bed. He gathered his long blonde hair and tied it into a loose knot behind his head. The bluerider groaned and watched S'haiyl blearily. S'haiyl looked back at him in disgust before gathering up a clean washcloth and some soapsand.

"I am going to clean myself up," S'haiyl said, "I expect you to be gone when I come back."

"Aw, S'ail," the bluerider grumbled, mispronouncing S'haiyl's name, just like all the other men did, "I heard you let F'joll stay last time."

A bit of hope bled into P'ror's voice but S'haiyl only shrugged his finely boned shoulders.

"I will be back in less than an hour," S'haiyl said.

He left the weyr. P'ror snarled something about prickly greenriders not appreciating their dragon's choices.

P'ror rolled onto his back. He smiled. The mating flight had been spectacular: Hamseth had been as good a catch as all the other riders had told him, even if S'haiyl had been a bit stiff under the furs. Mimoneth and Hamseth's shared happiness had smothered any uncomfortable distantness from the greenrider.

Shells, that man was beautiful.

ØØØ

T'yib woke up alone that morning. He had taken his requisite watch duties during Hamseth's flight just as he had every lonely night since S'haiyl had left him an empty wretch. They were well and truly separate.

He got out of bed, giving Fiyaleth a loving slap. The blue growled playfully and snapped at his lifemate's shoulder before nuzzling him.

_Morning_, T'yib said.

_We go on Search today_, Fiyaleth said happily.

Biheth had Clutched a sevenday before and Candidates needed to be found. A half- Turn had gone by since Fiyaleth and T'yib had passed the rigorous test to become Searchers. Fiyaleth, they had discovered, was best at finding Candidates who Impressed bronze and brown dragonets. That, and their young age, made them prime choices for Searchers. Fiyaleth and T'yib had the patience to sift through potential Candidate after potential Candidate without growing angry or frustrated.

It had been hard at first for T'yib to look at the young men who, if they Impressed, would forever be of a higher rank than him. Other Searchers had warned him about the resentment that would accompany Searching and how from time to time they would all wonder what made this or that boy so much better than them, that he would be bonded to a giant brown or bronze instead of their lowly blues. But, and this was the ironic thought they all clung to, it was only the blue dragons and occasionally a green that could find those Pernese who were suitable to be Candidates. Those boys would get nowhere without their approval.

T'yib saddled Fiyaleth up and climbed aboard his lifemate. Fiyaleth bugled a warning as they took off from his narrow weyr ledge. His great blue wings pumped the air powerfully. Soon, they were riding a thermal up to Ionenth's weyr.

They landed and T'yib hopped off to rouse L'tuv. He grabbed Ionenth's saddle on the way in.

The bluerider was curled up next to his weyrmate. T'yib grinned and smacked L'tuv's back. The older man swore at the rude awakening and jumped out of the bed to chase T'yib around the weyr with only the sheet clutched in his hand covering him. Then, L'tuv looked outside, past Ionenth's sleeping bulk. He swore again.

"Why didn't you wake me earlier?" L'tuv grumbled, hastily throwing clothes on, "We're going to be late!"

T'yib just grinned.

"Old man, you would've taken just as long to get up."

Ionenth, the commotion having woken him as well, blinked.

"Morning, Ionenth," T'yib said as he fastened the saddle around the blue's neck.

Ionenth rumbled and pushed his head against T'yib's chest lightly. He did not like anyone but L'tuv doing his straps.

"Sorry, boy, but your mate's not got himself dressed," T'yib said, far too cheerful for the hour, "He can fix them once he's ready."

L'tuv growled at T'yib for the slight. He shoved his boot on and tied the laces while T'yib adjusted the stirrups. L'tuv mounted his blue, then, and called a farewell to his weyrmate. T'yib swallowed the pang he felt when the man called back.

Fiyaleth launched off of Ionenth's ledge and was quickly followed by the older blue. They flew up to the Star Stones, waved to the watchrider, and went _between_.

* * *

Please, please, please review!


	17. Chapter 17

They flew over the icy hills that surrounded northern Benden. T'yib grinned as the cool winter air surrounded Fiyaleth. Most riders did not enjoy simply flying because _between_ took so much less time to get from place to place but L'tuv had been a rider long before Threadfall and had had years of experience going _between_. He had told T'yib more than once that it was a shame not to experience what was most natural to a dragon: pure thermal gliding flight. T'yib had to agree.

The yellow-green of winter-time fields passed underneath them with quick speed. They were headed to a minor holding. The harper there had passed word to Lord Holder Polom that several of his students were particularly promising. T'yib and L'tuv had looked at each other when the Lord Holder had announced that to them. 'Promising' said more about a harper's pride in his own teaching methods than his students and neither rider had much hope in the holding's children. Thirty eggs lay on the Sands. There would be choice enough for the dragonets whether Fiyaleth or Ionenth Searched anyone today.

Stone walls of a small building were just over the next ridge. L'tuv motioned to T'yib as Ionenth descended. T'yib waved back and Fiyaleth banked to the right so that they would land sufficiently apart from Ionenth and L'tuv.

The blue dragons settled with a plume of dust on the flagstones. T'yib swung off of Fiyaleth and landed on the ground, looking up at the entrance to the holding. A chill that had nothing to do with the current clime coursed through T'yib. He knew this place and he knew it well.

A pale-skinned man strode out of the holding's great doors. Two women, his wives, followed him, as did a mess of pale, light-haired children. T'yib grimaced and ducked his head as L'tuv went to meet the holder.

_Ionenth asks if you are alright, _Fiyaleth murmured inside his mind.

_Tell him that I need a moment, love, and then I will be,_ T'yib answered back.

He thought of a high mountain glacier, cold and serene. That would be his expression, that would be the feeling he would show. Fiyaleth sent calming thoughts to his rider, reassuring T'yib that the man could not touch him now that he was a dragonrider.

T'yib heard L'tuv explain the Search procedures. T'yib walked over to his side, as calm and collected as possible. He looked the holder in the eye when L'tuv introduced him.

One of the women gasped. The holder stiffened as T'yib shook his hand.

"Rider T'yib, is it?" the holder said, his blue-gray eyes studying T'yib, "I do believe we know each other."

T'yib grinned coolly.

"I believe we do. It has been Turns since I last saw you, father."

ØØØ

Glimath's tail flicked back and forth in her sleep, a draconic smile on her lips. M'jid stroked her long wing, massaging the taut muscles. He loved the color of her hide. It was a lovely mid-green with scattered spots of darker green across the bones.

M'jid kissed her wing tip lightly. He doubted Glimath could feel the loving gesture against her hide but she knew what it meant. M'jid disliked the hard slaps that bronzeriders would use to show affection. Those slaps seemed crude to him. He preferred softness and stroking. Glimath loved when he kneaded her shoulder ridges with tight circles of increasing pressure. He could feel the kneadings through their bond and the response of his body to hers delighted them both.

M'jid at first thought the wonderful pressure against his back was that feeling through their bond but soon realized when his hands fell away from her hide that it was something quite different. Human hands pressed against his shoulders and human lips brushed against his neck. M'jid arched slightly as the man nipped against his shoulder. He glanced back and was met with lust-filled eyes. Dragonlust-filled eyes.

M'jid smiled as K'leel pulled him to the bed and laid him down, pressing against him.

"Please," K'leel whispered, kissing M'jid, "The bluerider- I didn't want him- I couldn't-"

M'jid slipped a hand behind K'leel's head, pulling him nearer. He kissed K'leel back fiercely, a promise that the other rider would be with a friend this night and not a strange bluerider.

Glimath slept on, her dreams tinged with lust.

ØØØ

Ghaliyah swore when she stepped out of her weyr the next morning. Rimath had risen the night before, along with two other greens, and B'tarin, brown Tolsth's rider, had not been gentle. Ghaliyah was going to have to go find his weyrmate and tell her off for leaving him unattended during the flight. There was no excuse for letting your weyrmate mount a greenrider three times in one night. Three times! No amount of dragonlust made that sort of behavior acceptable. Once, twice, that was understandable. The third time B'tarin should have taken his aroused self out of _her_ weyr and gone to find someone else to penetrate.

She winced and slowed her angry stride, her body unable to accept any more abuse after the previous night's activities. B'tarin had not even asked Ghaliyah if she wanted to do anything more after the first time. No, that, that _man_ had taken her and pounded into her much smaller and less sturdy body like she was a breeding runner who did that sort of thing every sharding _day_.

Ghaliyah growled loudly when she reached the woman's quarters. She slapped her palm to the door several times and waited for an answer. When none came, she pounded with her fist, intent on getting the woman to come out so that Ghaliyah could tell her a thing or two about controlling her weyrmate. You just do not treat another rider like that, no matter what his or her dragon wants.

Ghaliyah pounded again, her anger rising.

Finally, the door opened a crack and a tall, heavy-set woman looked down at Ghaliyah. Ghaliyah glared at her, opening her mouth to complain about B'tarin and stopped.

The woman's face was streaked with dried tears and her hair was a disgraceful muss about her shoulders. Her cheeks were flushed and her nose a raw red. She clung to a shawl like it was the only thing left to her as she shook slightly.

Ghaliyah swallowed the angry words that she had meant to hurl at the woman.

"I'm Rimath's rider," Ghaliyah said, "I'm sorry."

The woman's face clouded.

"Did he enjoy it?" she said dully, sniffing slightly.

"B'tarin did his duty," Ghaliyah said, falling back on the traditional words she and all greenriders had been taught, "His dragon satisfied mine and, when they twined their necks together, we did as the dragons demanded. I have no wish to declare B'tarin my weyrmate and he has no wish to take me as his. He leaves my weyr with no obligations or connections to me or my dragon."

The woman shuddered at the words.

"I'm sorry," Ghaliyah repeated, her face a mask of sorrow.

The woman sniffed.

"Thank you, greenrider, for doing as the dragons demanded," she said, shutting the door.

Ghaliyah walked away, not at all content with the lies she had just uttered. Pity was the only reason she had not yelled at B'tarin's bereaved weyrmate but pity would not stop Ghaliyah from finding someone to complain to about the horrid brownrider.

A wingleader could ground an abusive rider during a greenflight. Oh, B'tarin's was going to get it for letting that man step foot in Ghaliyah's weyr.

* * *

Yeah, Ghaliyah's a bit of a bitch. I think I've made that abundantly clear. She's not a big fan of men, either, or rough sex. So, I said I wouldn't do first mating flights but I already mentioned Hamseth rising so the other greens would be, too. Please review. I'm getting frustrated from not getting any feedback when I know there are people reading. I've written a lot of Panik fics in the meantime and one or two Tokio Hotel ones as well as two other DRoP fics (Panik and Tokio Hotel are two German bands) so I'm not exactly running out of ideas anytime soon. Enjoy and just take the time to give me a word or two of what you think of this fic. Please.


	18. Chapter 18

"Threadfall over Tillek Proper," T'lyn announced as he inspected his riders' saddles and restraints, "Wind conditions are favorable and drift is at a minimum. However, four greenriders are out of commission for today's Fall, as well as two blueriders and three browns. H'dorl will not be flying with us today: his weyrmate's dragon is due to rise."

Ghaliyah nodded as her Wingleader spoke, giving the coordinates for the day's Fall. Mating season always disrupted Fall as greenriders and their weyrmates were forced to sit out. She had never heard of a green rising while fighting Thread but perhaps that was the reason for the Weyr's overcautiousness. Thankfully, none of the greenriders in T'lyn's Wing were close, Rimath having been the last to rise the sevenday before.

She mounted Rimath and they dropped from the Weyr ledge. Rimath positioned herself between blue Olanth and green Divmith, the same position she had flown in since their first Fall. Ghaliyah smiled at the riders to her left and right, waiting. The dragons' great wings pumped powerfully, keeping their positions. S'grall pumped his arm far below. The call went out through the Wings and they went _between_.

ØØØ

S'haiyl and Hamseth emerged from _between_ just as the leading edge of Fall appeared. Hamseth coughed and a tongue of fire appeared. They were ready.

Strands of Thread trickled down, the very beginning of Fall. S'haiyl watched as a bronze flamed and char drifted through the air. He shivered slightly from the cool air. It was cold now but once the Fall truly started he would be plenty warm and would most likely end the Fall overheated. S'haiyl knew it but the cold still leached all warmth from his body.

Maleth, Wingleader L'qur's bronze, bugled and S'haiyl looked up.

_We fly_, Hamseth said, pushing her wings down, _Thread is in the sky_.

ØØØ

Pirveth angled her fine neck and flamed. The tangle of Thread lit red for a moment, then faded into black char. It fell apart under the strong wind and scattered over her right wing. K'leel felt a wave of joy pass through him.

The Fall was almost over for the two of them. K'leel could feel how tired Pirveth was from the hours upon hours of fighting. Her hide was pale with exhaustion and there was a ping of hunger in her belly.

They would finish out this last bag of firestone and then they could return to the Weyr. Hamseth and S'haiyl had already returned several minutes before, as had most of the other green and blue dragons in their Wing. Fiyaleth and T'yib flew on to K'leel's far right, though he looked weary as well. Soon all of the smaller dragons would be gone. The larger browns and the bronzes would finish out the Fall alone.

K'leel fed Pirveth the last of the firestones. She chewed exhaustedly, her jaw moving slowly. He could see her inner eyes starting to drop.

_One last go, dearest,_ K'leel told her.

Pirveth flapped her wings once more and they flew upwards to meet a large clump. Pirveth flamed. The Thread fell away, beaten by dragon and firestone.

ØØØ

Rimath shrieked as she plummeted through the air, falling down, down, down. Ghaliyah leaned across her dragon's shoulder ridges and clung to her neck, wrapping her arms as far around as she could. Rimath's shrieks echoed in her ears and her mind. Ghaliyah cried out as Rimath's pain tore through her chest.

A brown appeared from between and positioned himself under the falling green. He would not be big enough to support them, Ghaliyah realized before Rimath barreled into him. They fell, Rimath's legs tangling with his tail, and Ghaliyah heard the brown's rider cry out before he disappeared _between_.

They fell further, passing row after row of dragons. A few called to Ghaliyah in alarm but the Fall was thick and none could be spared to help her without endangering their wingmates.

Rimath pumped her wings, slowing their descent somewhat. Ghaliyah clutched her tighter. Rimath caught a draft and they landed against an unyielding mass. The firestone bag swung up in reaction and smacked Ghaliyah's head, turning her world black.

Ghaliyah came to with strong arms holding her chest. She lay astride a huge, unfamiliar golden dragon neck in the arms of a woman rider. Ghaliyah groaned and looked for Rimath. Her green was nowhere to be seen. Ghaliyah sat up quickly and was shoved back down by the rider.

"Your green is being cared for," the rider said, her voice a soft lilting wonder to Ghaliyah's ears, "You need to lie back or you will fall. I am taking you to your weyr. Rimath will join you later."

Ghaliyah groaned.

The queen spiraled slowly down, a sharp contrast to Rimath's hard fall. Ghaliyah closed her eyes. The queenrider set her in her bed and slid in next to her, offering Ghaliyah a chilled drink. Ghaliyah took it, knowing that the fellis-laced juice would numb the pain she felt through her bond to Rimath.

With tired, heavily lidded eyes, Ghaliyah finally recognized her savior. Favanna, the last person Ghaliyah had expected to bring her home, was holding her. Logic and reason fled Ghaliyah's mind as the fellis-juice affected her. Ghaliyah felt herself smile, enjoying how close Favanna was to her. Favanna felt so much better than a strange brownrider.

Ghaliyah fell asleep in the queenrider's arms.


	19. Chapter 19

Lady Misra smiled as she read Buthaynah's report once more. Rider T'yib, one of the boys she had chosen years ago, had Searched Bitran lands and had returned with one viable Candidate.

Misra folded the letter in half and stowed it away in her deep gown pockets. A reply had been sent the day before by runner and would presumably reach the Weyr by nightfall. Faster communication was available but Misra had no desire to force Buthaynah to detail the everyday goings of individual riders. The plans of the Weyrleader and the Weyrwomen were enough to satisfy Misra, though official documentation concerning Bitran/Weyr affairs was sent to her as well. K'leel's report would be coming in a sevenday. Lady Misra had little interest in the greenrider's affairs, unable as she was to shake the uncomfortable feelings she had when thinking of the rider. A useful man but still a dragonrider and therefore never to be fully trusted. K'leel's allegiance was to Benden Weyr first and Bitra second. Misra did not pause to speculate upon Buthaynah's allegiance.

With each passing Turn communication decreased between Lady Misra and her chosen seven. M'kai and M'jid wrote once or twice a Turn, S'haiyl and Ghaliyah half that. Little in their lives concerned Bitra Hold and Misra doubted that between K'leel, T'yib, and Buthaynah's reports that there was much to be missed. There were some things left unsaid that Misra guessed, like S'haiyl and T'yib's separation. Some nights she pondered that peculiar puzzle: how two long term lovers could fade to nothing in a few nights.

Misra sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose. It was well past nightfall, the two Pernese moons visible in the eastern sky. Varra would return soon with the Lord Holder's commands and new information of the going-ons of the rest of Pern. The fosterlings should be getting to bed.

Misra walked through her apartments up to the second-story nursery. She could hear noises coming from the room. She smiled fondly. Molla and Gira, both barely thirteen Turns, were probably awake and talking of whatever concerned young thirteen-Turn-olds these days.

She opened the door just a crack and slipped inside, shutting the door behind her. The room was strangely dark. All sound had ceased. Misra drew breath, meaning to call to the two girls- and felt a knife blade, sharp and unyielding, slip between her ribs. Misra gasped as the blade withdrew and plunged in again.

"That was for turning Bitrans into dragonriders,"a cold voice hissed, pulling the blade out again, "And this is for protecting Tayyib."

A hand grabbed Misra's neck, another her shoulder. With a hard, purposeful twist, Misra's neck snapped. She fell to the floor, lifeless.

ØØØ

T'yib sat at a bench in the Lower Caverns, sipping a cup of cooling klah. It was late and he should have been in his weyr, in bed, but something was nagging at him and he could not sleep. He stared at the stew pot hanging over the fire, watching as bubbles of hot air burbled against the sides of the pot.

A few riders sat along the cavern walls, enough to make T'yib not feel quite so alone as in his large, empty weyr where there was only a sleepy Fiyaleth to keep him company. He took a drink of klah.

T'yib raised an eyebrow when a rider settled in across from him, two cups of steaming klah in his hands. S'haiyl smiled shyly and offered him one. T'yib took it and stared down at the table.

"What are you doing here?" T'yib asked finally, still not looking at his former best friend and lover.

"I couldn't sleep and I thought I'd come down and sit with you for a while," S'haiyl answered.

"How-"

"Hamseth asked Fiyaleth and he told her you were down here. Something bothering you?" S'haiyl asked, smiling at T'yib.

"No."

"You sure? I mean, you seem upset about something. You want to talk about it?"

"No," T'yib said firmly, bringing his cups to his lips to stop conversation.

"Come now, I know something's bothering you. You can tell me," S'haiyl wheedled, leaning across to touch T'yib's arm, "Tayyib-"

"That's not my name anymore."

"I heard you ran into your father while on Search," S'haiyl said, his pretty blue eyes gazing softly at T'yib.

"It's none of your concern," T'yib said gruffly.

"None of my concern? If something's causing you pain, I want to talk with you about it. I care about you, T'yib. Please, talk to me about something, anything. I just want to have a conversation with you. I miss you."

T'yib's heart clenched at the other man's words but soon turned to furious anger. S'haiyl had no right to talk to him about anything. Their relationship was over, done, all because of S'haiyl's lack of control.

"Really? You want to talk about how you became a slut after we got here? How you slept with a new rider every sharding sevenday? How you can't even go to sleep if it's not in another man's bed?!" he snarled.

S'haiyl's eyes narrowed to angry slits.

"That's not fair, T'yib! You don't know a damn thing what it's like to be a greenrider! I didn't have a choice!"

"Oh, so now Hamseth rises every sevenday? That's fardling ridiculous, S'haiyl!"

T'yib, in his anger, had sprung from his seat and was now pointing an accusatory finger at an equally infuriated S'haiyl.

"I do _not_ sleep with a new man every sevenday!"

"I'm sorry, did I say sevenday? I meant every _day_. You've become such a sharding whore, S'haiyl!" T'yib yelled.

"If Fiyaleth had had the balls to fly Hamseth that first time, none of this would have happened. But did he? No, Fiyaleth wasn't anywhere near that mating flight," S'haiyl hissed.

"What did you want us to do? Defy the Weyrleader; fight against an older bluerider? We had no fardling choice!"

"You didn't even try." S'haiyl said coldly, "You never said anything to G'plin or S'grall. You just let everything happen. You said you'd be there for me, no matter what, as long as I wanted you. And when I needed you most, you left me. I cried when Fiyaleth let another blue take Hamseth. You left me alone with a man who took me and used me for sex and threw me away the next morning. Fiyaleth wasn't happy, Hamseth wasn't happy, _I_ sure as shells wasn't happy. I ask myself every day why you let it happen and I still don't know the answer."

S'haiyl shook his head at T'yib.

"You're the one who left me, T'yib," he said quietly before walking away.

T'yib watched him go and remained seated, mentally cursing himself for his foolish words. S'haiyl still wanted him and he had ruined everything out of fear and doubt and sharding _anger_.

T'yib was piecing together an apology when a resounding boom shook the cavern. The bench beneath him shook violently and T'yib was thrown against the wall, the bench landing atop and around him. The stew pot slammed into the wall, spraying hot liquid everywhere.

"Suhaiyl!" he screamed, digging himself out of the mess of broken wood, his first concern for the other man.

The cavern shook again and T'yib fell onto the floor. The wind knocked out of him, T'yib wheezed and held his chest with one arm. He stood, falling slightly on unsteady feet. He threw his head back and forth searching for the familiar blonde hair and pale limbs that belonged to S'haiyl.

T'yib found him pinned underneath a table, blood trickling from a split eyebrow and a mangled arm. T'yib yanked broken wood away from his precious greenrider, throwing the pieces behind him until S'haiyl was free. T'yib pulled S'haiyl into his lap, cradling him close. S'haiyl groaned and opened his eyes slightly, the lids fluttering. Hot tears trickled down T'yib's face as he clutched the one person that meant everything to him.


	20. Chapter 20

The resounding boom of cavern after cavern collapsing would echo in Weyrleader S'grall's mind for Turns, the fear and shock of that disastrous day eating at his confidence and control.

His first thought- that it had been a freak accident- disappeared when the reports came in of the Weyrs affected and the small nook of the Lower Caverns that had collapsed as well. The explosions had begun on the top row of the dragon weyrs, taking out three smaller weyrs at once. The other three targeted had been interspersed, several rows and sections apart. It took little calculation to discern whose weyrs they were.

Two riders were dead and another nine injured. All but one dragon had escaped, flying _between_ as their weyrs exploded around them. Green Dyath had stayed in her weyr, kreeling as she tried to save her rider, M'kai, from the landslide of rock and stone dust that entrapped and killed them both. T'yrion, brown Sisefeth's rider, had been crushed by sheets of rock as the collapse of M'kai's weyr next to him had shattered the rock wall between them. Sisefeth had gone _between_ and had not returned.

Firestone smoke and rock dust filled the air around the gaping holes in the mountain that was Benden Weyr. S'grall, on Rigenth's bronze back, surveyed the Weyr. Sadness and anger roiled inside the Weyrleader as he tried to calm himself, knowing rational thought would be more needed at the moment than fiery anger.

Three strange men had been apprehended by dragons as they tried to escape the Weyr, the scent of an explosive variety of firestone lingering heavily to their clothes and skin. They spoke in a north Benden dialect and seemed to be workmen set to the horrendous task of attacking a Weyr. The source of the attack was not them, rather a far-off Holder or Craftman with money enough to pay men for a job that would likely end with their death. One man had been found dead near T'yrion and M'kai's collapsed weyrs, his head torn from his shoulders by strong dragon teeth. It could not be ascertained whether brown Sisefeth or green Dyath had killed him in a last brave attempt to avenge their riders.

_Though I do not wish to taste human flesh, I would do the same for you,_ Rigenth told S'grall.

_Biheth says that the meeting begins soon,_ his dragon said, _Galla is upset_.

S'grall nodded and asked Rigenth to descend. He dismounted when they reached the ledge outside of Biheth's weyr and made his way to the Weyrwoman's quarters. The injured riders were being cared for and it was time to uncover as much as they could about this act of terror.

The three weyrwomen glanced up when S'grall came in.

ØØØ

Galla had already sent a request to the Healer Hall for help. Several groggy healers had returned a-dragonback. After their meeting, she, her junior Weyrwomen and the Weyrleader had gone to see to the riders affected by the explosions. S'grall, ever sympathetic, knew it was barely morning at Fort and had apologized to the tired healers. Galla had given them a curt thanks, her mind whirling too much for pleasantries.

The nine injured riders were assembled in the infirmary as their wounds were attended to. Favanna had upon entering gone to see the woman greenrider, Ghaliyah, and Darali had gone to each rider in turn, checking bandages and asking questions. Galla sat in a chair and put her head in her hands.

Two riders dead, nine injured. Six weyrs targeted, all collapsing, and two reactionary cave-ins. A dragon dead, caught amidst rubble and stone sheets. One Bitran dead, five injured.

Galla looked up. She had duties to her riders. Her own feelings would have to wait.

Darali was soothing the dark skinned man, M'jid as he cried against her shoulder. She petted his hair as his body shook. Galla could not make sense of what he was saying but she knew from her healer training and experience that there were many levels of shock. M'jid would likely need more than physical healing.

A brownrider, V'bid, M'jid's wingmate, sported a stiff splint around his leg. It had broken along both lower bones. That would take months to heal, Galla thought, grimacing inwardly. Bronzerider H'mrit, their Wingleader, moaned from his cot. Rapidly reddening bandages covered rough, heavily bleeding gashes along his side. His dragon, Liretath, crooned from outside. Bluerider S'traz lay on a low cot, his chest bandaged from navel to underarm

Favanna was checking the wrappings on the short greenrider's left wrist, though Ghaliyah snarled at her quite a bit, saying that she was _fine_ and did not need to be coddled for a sprained wrist. Favanna gave Ghaliyah a meaning look and the greenrider quieted, letting Alibith's rider do as she would. Galla remembered then that Favanna had been in Ghaliyah's weyr during the explosion. The Weyrwoman's respect for the queenrider increased greatly. Galla doubted she would have been so ready to take charge if she had almost had tons of rock crush her to death.

Greenrider K'leel was out of his cot and leaning against the stone wall, his eyes unfocused as he talked with Pirveth. His shirt was ripped along the front, revealing shallow, half-healed cuts and his pants were stained with blood but he seemed otherwise fine. T'yib, blue Fiyaleth's rider, had his face buried in S'haiyl's neck, his arms wrapped around green Hamseth's rider. They really did make a pretty pair, Galla thought, remembering an old rumor about them, even with the red-stained bandages on S'haiyl's eyebrow and arm.

Buthaynah, a woman of the Lower Caverns, sat along the wall talking to no one Galla could see. Her lips moved rapidly and her eyes were distant. A long scratch spread from her cheek to her chin but the woman took no notice of it. Headwoman Renni entered the room and sat down next to Buthaynah, taking the woman's hands in her own.

Galla would have to send a rider to every Hold in their territory. The attackers had taken orders and payment from an unknown source, meaning the source could be anywhere in the outlying areas surrounding the Weyr. The patterns of attack and the testimony of the men captured would be more than enough to try any holder. It would not take long to find the voice of dissent that wished six Bitran riders dead. Galla hoped to Faranth that they would find the perpetrators before there was a chance to attack the Weyr again. The Weyr had no defenses against human attack.


End file.
